And Carried Me Away: My Life Had Stood Part 2
by JeichanHaka
Summary: Life is full of surprises, twists and turns, some good, others no so much. Jemma was the former - an unexpected gift amid all the terrible secrets unearthed since James' arrest. But will the 3-year-old's smile be enough to sustain the BAU family when another case reveals more secrets, changing what they thought they knew. (Sequel to My Life Had Stood.)
1. Chapter 1

**And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter 1:** My Life Had Stood Sequel

 _Nine Weeks Later:_

Slivers of light from the morning sun sneaked into the room through the curtains, highlighting the face of the man in the bed slumbering away. A book lay on his chest and it was clear that he'd fallen asleep reading, though not because it was boring.

The dark bags under his eyes were evidence of his exhaustion. As too was the fact that his alarm clock was blaring, yet he remained oblivious to it. It wasn't until a pair of small feet pattered towards him and a small child climbed onto the bed that his consciousness drifted out of REM sleep.

"Unc' 'Encer! Unc' 'Encer! Wak'up!" Jemma shook the man, Spencer, her voice shifting from loud to soft haphazardly. She gazehd down at him, as the alarm and her voice drew him out of sleep. Not fast enough for the three-year-old, who proceeded to force his eyes open with her fingers.

He instinctively pulled away, blinking and rubbing his assaulted eye.

"Jemma, no. You don't wake someone up like that." Spencer mumbled, taking a break from rubbing his eye long enough to sign what he was saying. He smiled slightly when he saw Jemma pout, knowing it meant the child understood him. A little under nine weeks had passed since Jemma started learning sign language, and it amazed them how quickly she picked it up. Her motor skills were still developing so Jemma wasn't great at signing herself, but she understood it.

"Momma. Today we see momma." Jemma spoke while attempting to sign the same words. Her tone was cute and much softer while she was signing. Her focus was entirely on trying to move her hands fluidly. It apparently bothered her that she wasn't as able to sign smoothly as him or auntie Blake.

After realizing that the possibility of Jemma regaining her hearing was low, Spencer and Rossi decided to contact Alex Blake to teach Jemma to sign. The ex-BAU member had been delighted to teach the three year old, and also Rossi when the senior agent asked. Though she was curious about who Jemma was and questioned them, but dropped the subject quickly after hearing Rossi was Jemma's grandfather.

It was clear that, like so many in the Bureau and throughout the country, Blake knew about James. That she had either read or learned from others, about Rossi's thought-to-have-been-dead son and the crimes James had committed. She hadn't asked anything more about Jemma, which relieved Spencer. He'd worried she'd ask about Jemma's mother and that he'd have to explain about Alsie.

It wasn't that he wanted to exclude Blake from knowing the truth - that he had a sister and that Jemma was his niece biologically, and not simply because she was a part of the BAU family through Rossi. But he didn't feel right telling others when his mom didn't know the truth yet.

Spencer sighed sadly, picking up Jemma after turning off his alarm. He slid his feet into a pair of slippers and placed the book he'd been reading before drifting off on the side-table. He closed his eyes briefly as he thought, trying not to breakdown.

Seven weeks ago he'd called to arrange to visit and tell his mom about Alsie and Jemma. To tell her that his sister hadn't died and that Diana had a grandchild. He spoke with his mom's doctors first, to seek advice on how to tell her, but had been cautioned to wait. It was then that he learned that his mom was having problems, that the hospital had to adjust her medication twice in one week. He'd immediately gone to see her, to figure out what was wrong, and to help fix whatever it was.

Spencer's eyes watered as he adjusted Jemma in his arms, her small arms wrapped around his neck. His mother's recent diagnosis echoed in his thoughts. Early on-set dementia, likely Alzheimer's.

It was a diagnosis that would've been devastating in any circumstance, but it happening so soon after discovering Alsie and Jemma made it ten times worse. He didn't know what to do: on one hand he wanted to arrange a reunion asap between Alsie and their mother. It was the one thing he could do to not feel overwhelmed. On the other hand, since the newest memories were those affected first by dementia, he couldn't help wondering if a reunion would do more harm than good.

He kissed the top of Jemma's head and stepped into his small kitchen, trying not to dwell on his mom's diagnosis. Placing his niece in her chair at the kitchen table, complete with a booster seat that Rossi had bought, Spencer shifted his focus to making breakfast. A small smile passed over his lips as he opened his fridge and took out one of the containers of food.

His team had insisted on helping with Jemma after Alsie's discharge date from the hospital was postponed. No one wanted Jemma to be placed with Child Protective Services, so Spencer and Rossi both stepped in as guardians until Alsie could leave the hospital. While the rest of the team helped out any way they could - babysitting or cooking or advice.

Spencer took out one of the containers, which held something JJ had prepared for Jemma. It contained a more balanced meal than all the desserts Garcia had eagerly made for the three year old, and one that was more picky-kid friendly than what Rossi had enthusiastically tried to get Jemma to eat. Spencer hadn't been there to witness it, since it was while he was visiting his mom, but Rossi had cooked many of his Italian recipes for Jemma only for the girl to refuse to eat any of them.

That had been one of the things that prompted Garcia's dessert making frenzy to get Jemma to eat while JJ and Hotch tried to figure out what healthy foods the picky three year old would eat. It had apparently taken a few days, but JJ managed to get Jemma to eat something beside the cakes and cookies Garcia made. Spencer wasn't privy to exactly how JJ managed it, other than by being an experienced mother. According to Rossi it entailed bringing Jemma to a grocery store and allowing her to pick out some foods.

Contrary to what Rossi and a few others of the team thought, Jemma had picked out foods other than sugary sweets. Eggs had been the first things she'd picked out, which had thrown JJ at first since she'd already tried making some for Jemma. After Jemma picked out a few more foods that, while healthy, were also generally sweet JJ realized why the three year old had refused to eat eggs before. The girl disliked foods that weren't at least mildly sweet.

"All right. Time for breakfast." Spencer signed to his niece, placing the contents of the container into a skillet. Though it'd be easier to heat up in a microwave, he really didn't like the idea. Besides, he didn't really own a working microwave. He'd had an old one he'd been given, but it stopped working a while ago.

"Eggs! I wan' eggs!" Jemma beamed, her large brown eyes catching a glimpse of what had been in the container. Her nose sniffed the air, the scent of the sweetened eggs emanating almost immediately from the skillet after Spencer started heating it up.

Spencer couldn't help but smile at his niece's adorable voice and enthusiasm. Jemma had thankfully, aside from her hearing loss, been unscathed by her stay with Linnet. At least physically. It was too early to tell what, if any, psychological effects her life with Linnet would eventually have. The man had tortured and raped women in the same house he'd raised Jemma, and Jemma hadn't been deaf the entire time. Just for the last few months before she was found.

"Unc' 'Encer!" Jemma called out, her eyes and smile wide. She reached out her arms, impatient as she waited for Spencer to warm up her food. Her smile beamed even more after her breakfast was placed in front of her and she took the first bite. "T'ank 'ou!"

Spencer smiled back at his niece, signing 'you're welcome' back. Just watching Jemma helped him feel less depressed and less overwhelmed.

0

 **BAU:**

A pair of heterochromatic eyes lingered over a few portraits on the wall, as though silently asking them what she should do. Cam Fitzgerald sighed. 'Maybe I should just forget about this. It's not like any one needs to know.'

"...Fitzgerald?" Hotch approached the younger agent once he saw her, surprise and concern in his voice. "What are you doing here? You're still with agent Aderhold's team, right?"

"Yeah. I took a few days off. And, um..." Cam hesitated, fidgeting with a folder she held in her hands. Something the BAU unit chief noted quietly. "...Can we talk?"

Hotch barely betrayed any sign of his surprise, though he was very much so. Fitzgerald had only ever asked to talk to him twice before, one of which had been to request a transfer and referral to Aderhold's team. The other had been when she asked for another chance in the BAU. "I have some time, we can talk in my office."

"Thank you." Cam replied, following Hotch towards his office. She didn't say anything else along the way, making Hotch wonder what it was the younger agent wanted to talk about.

"Please have a seat." Hotch said after the door shut behind them as they entered his office. He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. Though he wasn't surprised when Cam didn't - it was clear that something was upsetting the younger agent, and when she was upset or worked up she seldom sat. He was surprised that she'd come to him and not Rossi. "...what is it? Is something wrong?"

"It's...here." Cam handed the folder she held to Hotch, who noted that it was a FBI case file.

"This is...a file on one of of Linnet's victims." Hotch perused the top page of the file before returning his gaze to Cam. "That case is over, he confessed and faces life in federal prison without parole. You know that, you're the one who questioned him and got him to confess."

"I know. I..." Cam took a breath, grimacing as she remembered that questioning session. It hadn't taken much for Linnet to admit to everything, completely ignoring the advice his lawyer attempted to provide. The sick bastard had gloated in what he'd done to his victims. "...I questioned him again, a couple of weeks ago. He'd requested it actually."

"You didn't have to respond. He admitted to each abduction and murder." Hotch paused, studying how upset Cam was and wondering if he was missing something. The younger agent had left the BAU to escape having to question and deal with people like Linnet. Her agreeing to Linnet's request was bizarre.

"I...I had my own reason for agreeing to see him. There was a...minor discrepancy between his confession and a few of the autopsy reports done twenty-four years ago." Cam chewed on her lip, hesitant to explain more. After one or two false starts she slightly shook her head and took a deep breath.

"...what sort of discrepancy?" Hotch asked, immediately flipping through the file. His first thought was if the discrepancy was something that could hurt the case against Linnet.

"That's...that's not the main reason why I'm here." Cam interrupted, her body language shifting from mildly upset and uncomfortable to distressed. "Linnet..."

Hotch closed the file he held and waited; he briefly wondered if he should call Rossi since Cam was always more at ease with the senior agent. Though if Cam had wanted to, Hotch realized, she'd have gone to Rossi rather than come to him.

"Linnet said that...he recognized me from a locket the woman in that file had. That..." Cam swallowed and crossed her arms, trying to brace herself for what she was about to tell her old boss. "I don't know if it's true, but..."

Hotch waited, part of him suspecting what Cam was going to say. It was the only explanation for how upset the younger agent was.

"...he said that that woman was my mom. That she..." Cam fell quiet, unable to continue.

"...do you think Linnet was telling the truth?" Hotch inquired, concerned for the former team member. Though Cam had never been a full time member of the BAU, she had helped out on a few cases over the years.

"I don't know." Cam spoke slowly, displaying a level of vulnerability that Hotch had never seen in the woman. "I don't remember anything about her. Or my life with her. So I really don't know. I mean, maybe. I...just don't know."

"Don't worry. Everyone on the team will help figure this out. And if...if Linnet's telling the truth and this woman is your mother..."

"Yeah." Cam nodded and covered her mouth, unsure of how to feel. Or even what would be the better outcome. She didn't want her mother to be dead, but if Linnet was telling the truth, then she'd finally have some answers. An answer to why her mother had never looked for her or claimed her after the FBI found Cam as a child.

If the woman in the file was her mom, then Cam would finally know why her mom never claimed her. The woman in the file had died, been murdered, two years before Cam was found by the FBI during a raid.


	2. Chapter 2

**And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter 2:**

Burnt umber eyes glowered at the wall, a plain thing painted stark white. It was the same with the other walls, except for the one with the door. That one wasn't quite a wall but rather a prison bar door, electronically locked in place. The owner of the eyes scowled.

 _'Jemma.'_ Muttered James, as he tried to imagine what the three year old looked like. His mouth twitched, his mind going over his choice again and whether he should give in. Eight, or was it nine, weeks ago his father had attempted to visit, to talk. James however had snarled at him and refused the request.

A few days later David Rossi had tried again to see James, and refused to leave until he got a chance to talk. It'd been very brief, since the younger man was stubborn, but Rossi had managed to tell James that Jemma had been found. Alive.

James, having been convinced it was impossible, had ignored everything else his father had tried to say. He hadn't believed the older man. Nor had he considered Rossi's offer to bring a photograph of the toddler. He'd even shouted at his father that he'd just sell the photo to some inmate if Rossi sent one.

The older man hadn't bothered coming back since.

James grimaced, flexing his fingers. He stretched his arms out and then his legs, mulling at the wall. His hand closed into a fist, his lips twitching as he squeezed it tighter.

"Damn it..." He mumbled and relaxed his fist slowly, stretching out his fingers. His eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as he sat up, glowering at his hands.

"Hey." The sound of someone tapping on his cell door drew James' attention, and he scowled. It deepened when he noticed the wheeled cart of books that the inmates who worked in the prison library pushed around once a week. "I got a book here for you."

"Go away."

"Don't be like that. You'll love this book. I guarantee it." The inmate paused, making a face as though mulling over the other man's silence. "No? Well, I guess Somerfield's Treatise on Experimental Psychiatry is a bit banal for most..."

James tensed at the name, his eyes darting from the inmate to the book. Without more than a blink of thought, he rushed forward and grabbed the book from the inmate. It nearly fell from his hands as he grabbed it, and he cursed.

"...guess you're not like 'most'." The inmate smirked, watching James closely as the thirty-six year old glowered at the book. Without another word, the inmate studied James as the latter opened it, reading the title page. Then the dedication.

"What..." James stared at the dedication page, confused. He barely noted as the inmate who'd brought the book left, nor had the knowing smirk on the inmate's face registered to him. James merely reread the dedication page, sliding his finger over the name which was, aside from the initials, handwritten.

0

"Yes. I understand." William Reid spoke into the phone, standing just left of the door leading to Alsie's hospital room.

He was close enough to glance inside, which he did briefly to see his daughter packing up her stuff. Her clothes and books, and all the little things that had made it to her over the past nine weeks. All which had been brought to her to make her stay a bit more comfortable once it was prolonged.

"No, I haven't decided. It isn't as simple...it's not just my decision." He sighed, his eyes widening the next moment at the disparaging tone of his caller. His expression grew stony, exuding an undercurrent of anger at the comment. "Look, I'll call you back when I've come to a decision. I...what...? Fine, whatever, do what you want."

He growled and clicked his cell phone shut, shaking his head in frustration. Taking a second to compose himself, he knocked on Alsie's door before swinging it open. He smiled at his daughter as she glanced at him demurely before returning to her things.

"Are you all set? Did you need any help?" He offered, his smile faltering a little when Alsie quietly shook her head. The petite woman lingered over a few drawings laid on the bed, each vibrant in color. William recognized them immediately as those Jemma had drawn for her mother over the past couple of weeks.

Alsie shook as she reached for the drawings, uncertainty in her eyes. Not that her father could see it, her hair curtained her face blocking her eyes from his view. And that was on top of the height difference that made it difficult for the taller man to see her face without bending down. She took in a slow breath, her fingers shifting the drawings to reveal the photos beneath.

William recognized the top photographs immediately - those were of Jemma, taken and brought to Alsie over the last eight weeks by the BAU. The other photos took a moment longer to place, for one they were older and partly obscured by the others lain on top of them. It was evident that one of them was clearly a sonogram. He hesitated. "Elsie...?"

"...this..." Alsie picked up the sonogram after noting her father's eyes being drawn to it. She held it out towards him. "This was the sonogram I had just a few weeks before Jemma was taken...and the first one James missed."

William took the proffered sonogram silently, unable to speak as he gazed down at one of the earliest images of his granddaughter. It still felt surreal, finding out that his daughter was alive and that he had a grandchild. He took in a breath, staring at the sonogram and feeling nostalgic as it brought forth a memory from years ago. The day when Diana had had her third sonogram done, and the day they first found out she was carrying twins. In both the sonograms prior, due to fluke or the inopportune placement of the twins, only one had shown up. It had been such a surprise to him and Diana that they'd be the parents of twins.

"...afraid."

Alsie's voice interrupted William's reminiscence, his ears catching the distraught tone despite missing the words. His eyes locked on Alsie's face. "What is it? I'm sorry, I didn't hea..."

"...I'm afraid." Alsie repeated, her eyes glassy with tears she refused to let fall. She picked up one of Jemma's drawings, before turning to William. Her voice was so small. Unsure. "...what if...what if I get...frustrated and...hurt..." Her voice choked up, unable to finish the thought let alone the sentence.

"Don't even think...that's..." William replied, immediately realizing what his daughter meant. "You'll be a great mother. There's no way you'll hurt Jemma."

Alsie's lips twitched, showing a brief sad smile, before replying in a scoffing, self-deprecating tone. "...my blackouts...the...my dissociative..."

William shook his head, surprised a moment at his daughter bringing up her DID. Due likely to Spencer's insistence and reassurance, Alsie had started to come to terms with her diagnosis. "You'll be a great mother. You love Jemma. And you have so many people around you willing to help in any way. Spencer, Rossi, the BAU...and myself."

"...you're transferring to D.C?" Alsie asked, piqued by her father's inclusion of himself. During one of his previous visits, when she brought up him possibly taking custody of Jemma and staying in D.C, William had hesitated.

"I...I'm working on it." He replied, before turning his attention back to the photographs. His reluctance to discuss it obvious, not least because of Alsie's request a few weeks ago that he take custody of Jemma if anything happened to her. It had been while Spencer had left to visit Diana, and the BAU was off on a case, one that Rossi couldn't sit out on.

William had immediately offered to watch Jemma, until the BAU returned. His offer had been accepted by Rossi, who was determined for Jemma to know both her grandfathers, despite Spencer's animosity for William Reid. Rossi had even argued against Spencer when the latter found out about William babysitting Jemma and called the senior agent to insist he find someone else to watch Jemma. William learned this because Spencer had called him afterwards, demanding that he find someone else to watch Jemma. It had quickly turned into a berating session, where Spencer brought up all the things William did wrong through the years. From every argument William had with Spencer's mother, to him walking out on his family when Spencer was ten. Even the fact that William had never bothered telling Spencer about him having a twin. Everything that could be blamed on his father, Spencer brought up and insisted it meant William had no right to be in Jemma's life.

The phone call had quickly escalated into an argument when William's temper got the better of him. The two men had hung up on each other, still no closer to resolving the matter.

It was Alsie who settled finally settled it, calling up Spencer the moment she found out about the issue. William still didn't know exactly what Alsie had said to Spencer, as the petite woman had called her brother when no one was around, but he'd received a text from his son that night. In it was an apology and acceptance of William as a babysitter for Jemma. Of course, how Spencer worded it, it was clear his son accepted him as a babysitter only as a last resort.

It was further clear that Spencer expected William to go back home to Vegas at some point and officially no longer be a fixture in Jemma's life. Not wanted nor hoped, but expected in an almost fatalistic way, that the elder Reid would abandon his family again. William was unable to come up with any response, and had simply sent back his own apology for losing his temper.

The very next day, when William was visiting Alsie after dropping Jemma off at daycare - the hospital wing Alsie was in didn't allow children younger than six to visit patients - his daughter had asked the question. Would William be willing to become Jemma's legal guardian should anything happen to her? With the only condition being that he move to D.C.

"...you don't have to move, if you don't want." Alsie mumbled, shifting her gaze back towards the photos. Her eyes locked on a group of photos held together by a rubber-banded. She quietly picked it up, her vision blurring with tears though she tried to blink them back.

"I...it's not that. I want to be near you and Jemma, to watch my grandchild grow up." William Reid replied, his eyes widened by how his daughter interpreted his answer. "I just need to find a place to live and a job in the area. I've already sent out my resume to various law firms."

"Oh." Alsie glanced up at her father, her eyes round at his answer. It was clear she had been uncertain of his determination to stick around. "That's...you don't have to worry about money. Granny...Mary Schmidt set a trust for me, and left me her properties...you can stay and..."

William stopped himself from saying his first answer: an unapologetic no. He had no desire to have anyone, especially his daughter, support him while he was still able to do so himself. But he also understood, not just from Alsie's hopeful tone but also by how disappointed she was when she thought he wouldn't move, that his daughter wanted him around. The offer was a plead, and he didn't know if or how he could turn it down.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to either. A fact that made him feel guilty, as it reminded him of the day he left Diana and Spencer. His son had pleaded with him using statistics to not leave, but William hadn't listened. He had even snapped at the then ten year old, that they weren't statistics, despite knowing that that was the only way his son was confident in communicating. Especially when upset.

If he gave into his daughter's plea now, after ignoring his son's twenty-three years ago, what would that do to Spencer? It wasn't as simple as clear-cut favoritism, since he believed his daughter had been dead for thirty-three years, and he was sure Spencer would see that that made a difference. But...emotions had little to do with logic, and William wondered at what harm it would do to Spencer and Alsie's budding sibling relationship if he treated his adult daughter better than he treated his ten year old son. He didn't want to sabotage the chance for his children to develop a sibling bond, nor for Jemma to know her uncle.

He sighed then paused, an excuse dawning on him concurrently with his recollection.

"Mary Schmidt...she had you pretend to be her granddaughter Allison, correct?" William asked, enunciating each word slowly, to not accidentally appear eager for an excuse. "She would've left the trust and inheritance to 'Allison Schmidt'...hm..."

Alsie opened her mouth as though to speak, but closed it again thinking. Her hand unconsciously gripped the rubber-banded wad of photos tightly, squeezing them.

"I should take a look at the legal documents. Depending on how she worded it...they could be contested, since legally, you're not Allison Schmidt." William paused, eyes widening as a question occurred to him. "Unless...you didn't make an attempt to legally change your identity, did you? I mean from the name that family gave you - Adrienne Crawford to Allison Schmidt?"

Alsie shook her head.

"All right." William continued, his brain immediately locking on the possible legal issues of the inheritance Mary Schmidt left Alsie. He had no intention of depriving his daughter of the inheritance if Mary Schmidt truly desired her to have it, but his curiosity as a lawyer and a father piqued his interest the more he thought about it.

Depending how large the inheritance was and if Mary Schmidt had any blood relatives, how the will and testament was worded could nullify it or open it up to be contested. If Mrs. Schmidt had worded it to include not just 'Allison Schmidt' but also 'Adrienne Crawford' by name, that would potentially allow the inheritance to stand legally.

"What law firm handled Mary Schmidt's estate and drafted her will? I'd like to talk to them and go through the wording of it."

"Her private attorney handled it. Cyrus Jorgensen Cutler. He lives in and has a practice in Bethesda, Virginia." Alsie replied, her gaze back on the photographs she held. She barely noted his father repeating the name, a peculiar expression on his face. It was as though he was trying to figure out where he'd heard the name before. Nor did Alsie notice the dawning realization in William's eyes as he placed the name.

All of her attention was on the rubber-banded photographs in her hand. Her eyes lingered over the top one, a Polaroid with the initials PLLC 1998 written on the white strip.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Just a reminder, this fic is a sequel to My Life Had Stood, so it's best to read that first so you're not confused/lost.

* * *

 **And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter Three:**

 _-Flashback-1998-_

 _"Who are you?" Alsie demanded the stranger as he entered the private classroom - which was more of a unused storage room than a classroom. The school had deemed it her own private study after deeming it necessary to accommodate her and her propensity to interrupt her teachers. Though it wasn't her fault they tended to teach straight from the textbooks, many of which were too dated to reflect current knowledge._

 _She'd even said as much to the principal, and then the superintendent, but neither were willing to accept her point. Nor had either wanted to lose her as a student, which had as much to do with Mary Schmidt's money as it did her intelligence._

 _"You're Allison, right? Allison Schmidt?" The stranger asked instead of answering, picking up one of the texts Alsie had taken from the local library. "...quantum mechanics, interesting. Um..."_

 _"Go..." Alsie, irritated by the stranger, was about to growl at him to eff off or tell her his name when he started talking about quantum theory. She paused, intrigued. Her eyes followed him closely as he neared, switching from quantum theory to psychiatry as he did. She listened as he talked about the brain and the ways to control it and memory. "...who are you?"_

 _"I'm..."_

x

"...Elsie?" William Reid approached his daughter, having called her name a couple of times he was concerned by her sudden lack of response. He reached out for her instinctively and froze when she tensed. Though he'd immediately realized his folly, the moment he touched her arm she recoiled. "...I'm sorry. I..."

He took a step back, tensing himself as he expected the thirty-three year old to shift into an alter, likely Emmie, at the touch. A few moments passed before he realized the shift hadn't happened. His brow furrowed, staring down at his daughter's tensed form. Though it was obvious she was extremely uncomfortable, the fact that she hadn't shifted to Emmie or Ana made William sigh in relief.

During her nine week stay in the hospital, Alsie had gone through multiple sessions with Dr. Freeman, her psychiatrist. As well as a therapist after Spencer convinced her it'd be helpful. The result being that Alsie had finally accepted her diagnosis and was getting her D.I.D under control.

"...sorry." Alsie mumbled back, still a bit skittish. "I'm working on not being so..." She swallowed and took a deep breath, her eyes averted from William. "Sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." William immediately replied, his gut clenching at the apology. "It's the Crawfords' and Linnet's faults. What they did..." He clenched his jaw, unaware of and unable to moderate his angry voice until he notice Alsie tense up again. His eyes widened when he saw her flinch and touch her right temple. "Elsie, I..."

"It's your fault too." Alsie spat, massaging her temple. The tell-tale signs of a migraine were already starting to rear their heads. She took in a few calming breaths, attempting to forestall the headache - the pain of which she'd learned was at times a precurser to a switch to an alter. Whether it was a trigger or just a sign of a switch, neither she nor her therapist knew for certain, but abating her headaches seemed to help avoid an identity shift. "...you spent years acting like I never existed. You...you and her..."

William flinched, the venom in his daughter's tone scathing. Though it wasn't the anger being directed at him that cut him as much as the way Alsie referred to Diana. Her. The emphasis placed on that one word spoke volumes. It was evident that Alsie placed so much more blame on Diana than on him, though both he and Spencer had tried to convince her otherwise.

"Elsie, we've been through this. Your mother...she couldn't help it that..." William rubbed his forehead, exasperated and wishing that Spencer was here. Though, he conceded quietly, it was better that Alsie's twin brother wasn't here. The first and last time Alsie had disparaged Diana in front of Spencer, the latter had immediately defended their mother.

The argument that had resulted still felt surreal now, just remembering it. It was the first real sibling argument between his children, and William caught himself imagining what it'd have been like if Spencer and Alsie had been raised together. So caught up in imagining a 'what might have been' scenario, William had failed to notice how serious the argument had escalated. It wasn't until Spencer had retorted the biting: 'don't you talk about my mother,' with emphasis on the word 'my', that either man had realized it'd gone too far.

Upon hearing it, Alsie had immediately blanched and gone silent, her eyes widened into saucers. The look on her face horrified and distraught, while betrayal and pain gleamed in her eyes. Then the way she had spoke afterwards, telling them to both get out in an uneasily quiet voice, had scared both him and Spencer. Enough that though they obeyed it and left the room, neither could leave the hospital.

Later that night Alsie was discovered trying to kill herself.

"...why hasn't Spencer brought her to see me. Or me to see her? Or even a call? Or letter? Or anything?" Alsie mumbled, her tone sounded accusatory at first but William detected the wobbliness of it as she continued. If that wasn't enough, the swallowed back sob she gave afterwards clinched it, and William's eyes widened.

"Elsie, it's all right. Ok? I'm sure it's just a matter of scheduling. Your mother loves you and..." William grabbed his daughter's hand, trying to reassure her. Instinctively he wanted to hug her like a father would, but he knew it would be disastrous. Especially now.

"But why...?" She whispered, squeezing his hand back. Tears fell silently from her eyes. "Spencer said he'd bring her...he promised. Why hasn't he?"

"I don't know." William admitted, growing annoyed as he thought of his son. He hadn't been there when Spencer made the promise, but he'd expected his son to follow through on it. Or at least tell one of them the reason why he couldn't. Even if Spencer didn't want to talk with William, he could still explain why to Alsie. If there was something wrong...if Diana had a bad reaction to finding out the truth, the least Spencer could do would be to explain it to Alsie. Or to Dr. Freeman if Spencer thought Alsie might take it badly.

Alsie, catching the bitter bite to William's tone, squeezed his hand tighter. Her thoughts drifting back to the question she'd asked herself constantly since finding out Jemma was alive. _'...will I be a good mother? Will I...? Or will I hurt her?'_

 _'Have I already hurt her?_ ' Alsie bit down hard on her lip to keep from blurting that bit. Her heart jumped into her throat as she thought about Linnet and how he knew what name she and James had picked for Jemma. How he had named Jemma Jemma, rather than picking some other name. A more common one. _'Did I...? Ana...Emmie...did one of them...did they tell him...? Did...'_

"Elsie? What is it? What's wrong?"

"...dad? Can...can you do something for me?" Alsie spoke, her voice shuddering. Her lips quivered as she gazed up at him, waiting a moment before shifting back down to the pile of photographs on the hospital bed. She picked one up, and handed it to William while mumbling her request.

Before he could reply, the hospital room door opened and in stepped Spencer.

0

 **Quantico** :

Cam waited quietly beside the round table, her heterochromatic eyes glancing at each of the BAU members as they entered and sat. She greeted each succinctly, with a small wave of her hand and head nod.

"Let's get started." Hotch shut the door as he entered, his own gaze taking in the team members present. Aside from him and Cam, there was Morgan, JJ, Tara Lewis, and Garcia sitting around the table, their expressions ranging from confused to curious. "Alsie's discharge is today, so Reid and Rossi won't be joining us."

"What's going on? Something tells me this isn't to plan a surprise party for Alsie and Jemma..." Garcia piped up, alert to the less than exuberant feeling to the meeting. She was one of the more confused of the group, since unlike the others she knew the meeting wasn't for a readied case, unless it was an emergency one that just cropped up.

"No." Hotch affirmed, addressing the group. "And this isn't an official case. Fitzgerald?" He turned to Cam, gesturing for her to speak.

"...Ok." Cam mumbled, swallowing almost unnoticeably while noting that the expressions of the rest of the BAU had grown concerned. Morgan, JJ, and Garcia each thought of the times during the years when Hotch had called such meetings. The redness around Cam's eyes increased the concern gnawing at them. "I...I know I was only ever a temporary member, and you don't have to help but..."

"It's all right, Fitzgerald, you can sit down." Hotch reassured the younger agent, continuing for her when it was obvious she was unable to herself. He turned his gaze to his team, making sure their attention was on him. "A few weeks ago, Greg Linnet asserted to Fitzgerald, that one of his victims was her mother. He had taken a locket with a photo of the woman and a young Fitzgerald as a trophy."

"...What?"

"My god..."

"Is there anything we can do?"

"Are we sure Linnet's telling the truth?"

"That's why I called this meeting. Fitzgerald has asked us to investigate Linnet's claim, and find out if there is any truth in it." Hotch explained while Cam sat down, looking more nervous than any of those present had ever witnessed her to be. "This isn't an official case, so it will have to be done on your own time, but..."

"I'm in. You don't even have to ask." Garcia chirped up.

"The only reason we were able to find Jemma was because of Fitzgerald bringing us the case leading to Linnet. So of course we'll help." JJ said, while Morgan and Tara Lewis nodded in agreement. Cam started to open her mouth to insist they didn't owe her, only for Morgan to head her off.

"We do owe you, and your old team, for helping to find Jemma." He insisted, understanding from what he knew about her personality what she was going to say.

"...thank you." Cam replied instead, feeling the sense of unity and family that the BAU team was known for, and what had both attracted her to the team but also made her anxious back when she first joined years ago.

"Where do we start? Re-interview Linnet?"

"That should be a priority, yes, to gauge if he is telling the truth or just trying to get under Fitzgerald's skin. But first, I think we should look more into the woman he identified as Fitzgerald's mother." Hotch spoke, opening up the folder Cam had brought to him earlier. "There wasn't time yet to make copies of all the information in the file. But the victim went by the name Violet Brant, according to what Linnet told Fitzgerald and what the original investigation team discovered."

"...it was a fake name." Cam piped up, growing more comfortable - partly due to feeling the BAU family vibe, and partly to being able to focus on the facts of the case. After her original team's fatal accident, she'd gone over their open cases. The connected homicides that eventually led to Linnet had been one her team leader had obsessed over, and so had she after his death. Enough that she knew all the victims names and details in the reports. "That much was discovered by those investigating at the time, but they weren't able to find out her real identity."

Hotch was about to continue where Cam left off, but was interrupted by his phone ringing.

He glanced at the display, reading the name and number which appeared. His eyes widened slightly. "Yes? What...? Yes...Yes...you're sure...? Yes." He listened for a few more moments before hanging up. Surprise lingering in his face.

"Hotch?"

"What is it? Is something wro...?"

"New Jersey police just found the body of a woman who'd gone missing from New York a little over two months ago." Hotch replied, continuing before his team could ask him to elaborate. "She had been raped and enucleated. Using an identical method to James'..."

"What...? But..."

"It has to be a copycat. Some fan who heard about the case." JJ replied, shaking her head in disbelief. And revulsion. Of all the criminals an unsub could copy, they had to choose James.

"Were we invited in?" Tara asked, while the others insisted they had to investigate either way. The victim being transported over stare lines gave them the authority to do so despite what the local law enforcement thought. Though if the copycat had only one victim, it'd be more difficult to get an okay.

"We were." Hotch pressed a few keys on his phone, dialing a number.

* * *

 **A/N: My plans for this fic have changed since I first started brainstorming for it before finishing part one (My Life Had Stood). Because of this it is taking a bit longer for me to write. (There're some major revelations that I plan on having happen.)**

 **What do you readers think so far? (Any guesses to who the person in Alsie's flashback at the beginning of this chapter is? Or perhaps a guess at what name was written on the dedication page of Somerfield's book that James was given in the previous chapter?)  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter Four:**

Rossi gazed out at the patio where his daughter and grandson were playing with Jemma, after Spencer had dropped her off on his way to pick up Alsie. His eyes grew misty. It was idyllic and surreal, and he thought how just a few years ago he'd believed such a moment was impossible. He'd been overwhelmed with finding out about Joy and her son, and was still getting used to being a father and grandfather to them.

Then that case in Western New York happened and he found out about James. About the lie he and Carolyn had been told thirty-six years ago, and then the conspiracy behind that lie. It had blindsided him more than Hayden hiding Joy's existence from him. That at least he understood, though he was still hurt by it and lamented not being there for his daughter growing up. But James' kidnapping was one he didn't understand.

He'd just started his work hunting down serial killers with Gideon and the other starting members of the Behavioral Science Unit back then. The BAU as it was now, was only a dream back then, and not many believed they'd accomplish much if anything. So why did Connell and Somerfield target his son? Why did Somerfield experiment on James, trying to psychologically condition his son to become a killer? How had he been a threat to either of them that they would take James as a precaution?

He'd never heard of either man until just a few months ago!

The sound of his cell-phone buzzing pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced at the number before answering.

"Yeah, Hotch? Is everything ok?" Rossi paused, his gaze watching as Jemma played with her cousin and aunt, her voice carrying inside from the patio. He smiled faintly as he saw the gestures the three year old made and understood what she was saying. It still amazed him how quickly Jemma had picked up sign language after they started teaching her. He was still having trouble with it, and mixed up a lot, but he understood what Jemma just signed. She'd been signing it for the past week.

 _-Momma's coming home soon. I'll get to see her.-_

Rossi smiled at his granddaughter, missing what Hotch had just said over the phone. He didn't miss the tone though, and immediately turned his attention back to the other agent. "I'm sorry, I missed what you just said, what..."

 _-"Someone's copying James' crimes. Almost exactly. There's been only one recent victim discovered so far, a few weeks ago, but..." Hotch paused, his words horrifying and angering the older agent, who could barely respond from said emotions. "This unsub is killing his victims."-_

Rossi, infuriated, barely noticed the ringing of his doorbell or his daughter going to answer it, his focus on Hotch. His tone was almost a snarl when he spoke, his anger directed at the thought of the unsub copying his son's crimes. As if it wasn't enough to have endured arresting and seeing his son sent to prison, to suddenly have it thrown back at him now and in this way. "Victims? Has there been more than one? Hotch?"

 _-"...Yes and no. This recent victim was the only one raped and enucleated by this unsub. But based on how the victim was killed, it's likely he killed at least three times before." Hotch replied, stating it matter-of-factly though Rossi sensed there was something more to it. He didn't have to wait long or even ask how the victim was killed before the younger agent elaborated. "The cause of death was three punctures to the spine, just like the three women who were James' victims thirteen years ago."-_

"That's..." Rossi drew in a breath, Hotch's words a blow to him. He hadn't forgotten the three victims that were connected to James after the latter's arrest, but he had allowed himself to be content with not pursuing it since it'd been given to another team. One that had, he presumed, come to the same conclusion he and Hotch had: that the three women were assaulted by James, but murdered years later by another party. Rossi scowled, considering this information, before his anger was tempered with wonder. A thought had occurred to him as suddenly as his anger. "Hotch, if this unsub is responsible for killing those three women, then maybe..."

 _-"It's possible but unlikely." Hotch curtailed the senior agent's hypothesis, that the victims that were assaulted thirteen years ago and which they'd attributed to James, may not have been James' after all. "This unsub killed his victim before raping her. And the enucleation showed hesitance according to the coroner's initial report."-_

Rossi exhaled, not surprised but dismayed by Hotch's refuting response. He was about to ask another question when Joy approached him, carrying an envelope. His eyes narrowed slightly, eyeing the package suspiciously. It was a plain, ochre-yellow business envelope, hand addressed to him. Seemly innocuous, yet it unnerved him. His gut roiled.

"Dad? This just came for you. I..." Joy spoke, holding the large envelope-shaped package out hesitantly. It was evident that she felt a bit suspicious about the package, but she still flinched when Rossi grabbed it from her hands. Her own concern heightened when her father suggested she play with her son and Jemma outside. "Dad...?"

"Go." Rossi replied, firm but softly, his gut clenching as a horrible feeling enveloped him. He didn't know what was in the package, but his gut was screaming at him that it wasn't good.

 _-"...Dave? Is something wrong? Did something happen?" Hotch asked, concerned by the tone to the older agent's voice even if he hadn't clearly heard the words. "Dave?"-_

"A package just arrived for me." Rossi replied coolly, his eyes locked on the handwriting which seemed familiar but at the same moment felt wrong. He placed it on the table, deliberating what could be inside. His gut screamed at him.

 _-"What sort of package...?" Hotch asked, his eyes narrowing as he detected through the way Rossi spoke, what the other man thought. The package wasn't just a simple package, but one that had alarmed the senior agent's instincts. "Dave? Should I send the b..."-_

Rossi, already opening the package, shook his head and muttered 'no' into his cell phone. His gut wasn't telling him the contents were dangerous, but that the handwriting was important. "No bomb squad, Aaron..." He paused, his expression turning rigid as he saw what was inside. He drew in a breath, mentally swearing. "But send forensics. And the team."

 _-"What? What's in the package? Dave?"-_

Rossi didn't answer, but rather glowered down at the contents: a pair of human eyes haphazardly preserved in a Ziploc bag, and a VHS with 'to Rossi' written on the front.

0

 **Hospital:**

"...I'll finish packing." Alsie mumbled, turning back to her things arrayed haphazardly on the bed. Her eyes alighted uneasily on the rubber-banded stack of photos and she immediately grabbed them. Her heart quickened, hoping that neither man behind her had noticed.

"Uh...I'll...I'll be on my way." William Reid spoke up next, not sure how to respond to his son's presence. Neither he nor Alsie had told Spencer he was still in D.C, let alone would be visiting Alsie today. Though, to be fair, neither had they told him that William Reid wasn't still in D.C. "...Bye."

Spencer watched quietly as his father bid goodbye to his sister, keeping his lips pressed shut until he heard the older man leave. It'd thrown him, seeing his father and Alsie talking, enough that he had stopped himself from opening the door. A total of eleven minutes and eighteen seconds had passed between him arriving and him entering the room.

A short time, yet it had felt like an eternity. Just standing outside, caught between wanting to barge in to demand his father leave and not wanting to deny his sister time with hi...their father. Spencer swallowed and cleared his throat, feeling both guilty and self-conscious. ' _It's 'our'...'our'. Not 'my'...'_

Alsie, having wordlessly packed away the photo stack unnoticed, glanced towards Spencer. Her eyes noticed his face, and the mix of fear and guilt in it. She noticed too, while she gazed on him silently, the moment his concern shifted to irritation. "Sp..."

"...it isn't mom's fault." Spencer blurted, his thought processes moving fast, dashing away from his concern for Alsie's relationship with their dad, and locking on the bits of conversation he'd overheard. The one most prominant had been when Alsie had complained about Diana - the tone she'd used still seemed to pierce him. "It's not her fault. Not back then and not now."

Alsie flinched, her eyes widening a millimeter. She stared up at her twin, allowing her hair to fall back behind her ears, as she gazed at him. Her eyes expectant. "...why?"

"Why?" Spencer drew in a breath, taking the one word question as a criticism directed at Diana. He nearly spat out an angry retort before Alsie continued, revealing how incorrect his assumption had been.

"What is it? What happened? Is she okay? Are you?" Alsie approached Spencer, her questions rapid-fire, and her eyes wide with concern. She immediately grabbed for her brother's hands. "Spencer?"

"..." Spencer glanced down at Alsie's hands holding his, the gesture the only way his sister could offer comfort. And just it alone was enough to make the last of his composure drop. The tears fell silent as he recounted his trip and what he'd discovered. That their mother had early-onset dementia, that she would slowly lose her memories. "...there's nothing I can do. Mom's...and I...I want to do something, to help her...not just for my or her sake. But...for you and Jemma too. I...I want Jemma and you to meet mom, but if her memory...it'd be difficult enough explaining to her the truth once. That you were taken. I'd prepared for that weeks ago. It would've been emotional, overwhelming, but doable since I was sure she'd be overjoyed discovering the truth. But..."

"...yeah." Alsie mumbled, getting Spencer's concern and understanding his turmoil. The prospect of having to possibly repeat the explanation over and over, would be exhausting emotionally. Yet she felt bitter. Before Spencer had gone to see Diana, he'd told Alsie such wonderful stories about the woman, that Alsie had looked forward to meeting her. To finally be able to see her real mom, and be able to have a mother worthy of the title.

Her bitterness faded however, as an idea popped into her thoughts. It was one she had buried, locking up in the dark coffers of her brain. One she knew no one would understand or condone, yet it still burned inside her. She squeezed Spencer's hands, gazing up at him timid yet hopeful.

"You know, we could forget too, that we are..."

"What? No." Spencer flinched, understanding what Alsie meant before she even finished, and was left aghast. The petite woman hadn't mentioned or hinted towards it since the first time she suggested it, so he thought it was done with. Yet now...

"...I already explained that...there's no risk...I can't...carry to term again. So...all that'd be hindering us..."

"No. Alsie. Just no. That's not going to happen." Spencer groaned, feeling nauseous from the thought. It was bad enough that he and Alsie had kissed briefly, before finding out about being twins. But what Alsie suggested was much worse. At least the kiss had occurred before he knew Alsie was his twin and had been initiated by her alter Ana.

Alsie's hesitant hints at wanting to continue such a relationship with him despite knowing were disconcerting.

"...I'm sorry."

"I can't...I can't believe you would suggest something like that now. Just after I explained about mom. I can't..." Spencer shook his head, staring at Alsie like she was a bizarre alien. It seemed like the only explanation, though he knew it had more to do with how Alsie was raised and her trust issues than that. "...how...do you even actually care about mom? Or anything I said about her? I can't..." He pulled his hands from his sister's.

"...sorry." Alsie whispered, flinching at the sudden loss of Spencer's hands. It was such a small gesture, yet it spoke volumes to her. More than her brother's frustrated and angry words. Her eyes teared up, which she hid by shifting her head downward, allowing her hair to conceal her eyes from anyone over her height. Her bereft hands, she used to embrace herself, crossing her arms in a mixed gesture of self-comfort and defensiveness. "...you don't have to be here."

Spencer blinked, taken aback. Even more so when Alsie started trying to carry her bagged things herself, ignoring the fact that he was there. "Al...don't...don't do this. Don't shut me out just because...I won't..." He grabbed for the packed bag Alsie carried, determined to help. His eyes grew wide when she tensed and backed away - only a few inches, but it seemed like a chasm. "Alsie...please. Don't be...don't...be..."

Spencer bit his lip, about to say 'don't be stubborn' to Alsie, despite knowing that it wasn't spite that caused his sister to flinch.

"'Don't be what'? Unfair? Stubborn?" Alsie blurted, glaring at her brother. "What is 'fairness'? Really, tell me. Is it fair that you got to spend all those years with mom and dad, while I...I got..." She swallowed, thinking about the Crawfords and Linnet. About what she had to endure growing up, enough abuse to trigger D.I.D. "...And is it fair that dad practically leaves the room every time you arrive because he's too concerned about how you may take the time he's with me as favoritism? And you never tell him otherwise. I understand he left you and mom, but you still had ten years with him in your life! I had none! And you've had even more time with mom! The woman who forgot I existed since I was born! Yet whenever I make any sort of complaint or remark about her, you defend her." Alsie snarled, barely taking a breath as she continued her tirade. "I'm sorry I don't have the same view of her as you, since I never met her. And going on how you worded what you said earlier, it seems I never will since it'll be too...useless? Too irritating?"

"Tha...Alsie, no. That's not..."

"And to top it all off, you get angry at me for suggesting something that...yes, I know...I get it's impossible. Illegal, even. For you and I to..." She took in a steadying breath, her lips trembling. "And I'm sorry for suggesting it. I just...it's how I feel. How I felt since we were children, playing chess at that park. You..." She touched her scarred right temple, her hand quivering. "The thought - the hope - of meeting you again was what allowed me to endure all the...shit I went through. I can't just forget what I feel, despite knowing we're related. Despite knowing nothing will ever come of it. I just...I'm sorry? All right?"

Alsie dropped her bag, her strength fleeing her along with her anger. Swallowing back her tears, she attempted to rush past Spencer and out of the hospital room, only to be halted by him grabbing her arm.

The next moment he pulled her into a hug.

"...I'm sorry, too." Spencer whispered, wrapping his arms around Alsie and allowing her to cry against his chest.

* * *

 **A/N: What do you readers think so far? BTW, I can't really think of any hints towards the answers to the questions I posed last chapter (the identity of the person in the flashback/memory Alsie had, or the name written in the book James received), but I can say that neither answer is an OC.**

 **I don't plan on having any Spencer/Alsie twincest in this fic (though I might write a Oneshot AU for tumblr just to satisfy my personal desires), but I do feel that having the two deal with the emotional complications arising from their dating briefly in My Life Had Stood would make for some good drama. (The last few paragraphs of this chapter explains the main reason why Alsie is still interested in pursuing Spencer despite being twins.)**


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I decided to look up the word gem in Italian for this chapter, and have to say I'm surprised, since when I came up with Jemma's name, I didn't know la gemma was a way to say gem in Italian nor did I know that Jemma is a variant of James...I just thought it was a nice name. [I briefly entertained the names 'Jamie' and 'Jemmie' for Jemma, but it felt too self-insertish, since the former is my name.]_

 **And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter Five:**

Doe-like eyes stared amazed at the patio, absorbing its immensity, and that of the pool nearby. Though she had seen it many times since leaving Linnet's, Jemma still felt awed by how massive grandpa Dave's home was. It was as huge as a castle like in her books and as bewildering as a labyrinth. The first time she'd visited she'd gotten lost, there were so many rooms. Enough to make her miss her small room back at Linnet's.

Who needed so many rooms?! Why not just one room and a bathroom? That's all that was needed, right? What could be the use in having so many rooms that you could get lost or so much floor area that you'd get exhausted walking from room to room?

She'd asked grandpa Dave those very questions tearfully when he'd found her crying in an upstairs room, lost. It'd taken a moment or so for him to understand her words through her tears, but even then he wasn't able to give an adequate answer. The only thing she understood from his response was that he had such a huge house because he wanted it. But she couldn't understand why anyone would!

Jemma toddled over to the far end of the patio, closer to the pool. Though she was still confused by why someone would want so many rooms, she understood the desire to have such a big yard and a pool. She loved the idea of having a pool, it was like having a giant bathtub that one could share, and play in. Without getting in trouble or messing up the floors. It was fun! Though, she hadn't been allowed in yet - not until she had swimming lessons, grandpa Dave had reprimanded her after she'd attempted to run into the pool.

Uncle Spencer had said the same thing too, when she'd ran to him for permission. It wasn't fair!

"I'll a'k momma today, I bet she say 'es." Jemma mumbled to herself, staring down at the pool. It was so interesting, gazing into the pool and seeing everything behind her reflected in the watery surface. "An' if she don', I'll a'k pahpa." She paused, face scrunching up. "Not pahpa, Lin'et. Lin'et."

Her lip started trembling, a wave of homesickness enveloping her.

"...hey. Hey." Joy knelt down next to Jemma, gently getting the girl's attention by waving her hand. The first thought in her head when she'd noticed how close Jemma had gotten to the pool was fear, and the desire to grab the child to scold her. Her stern expression softened when she noticed her niece's quivering lip.

"I wan' 'ome! I wan' 'ome!" Jemma cried, her eyes overrunning with tears. "Pahpa! Wan' pahpa!"

"Shh. It's all right." Joy soothed, making sure her lips were viewable to Jemma. She faltered for a moment though, wondering if her niece could actually see her through the tears. Smiling kindly yet unsure, she repeated her words while holding the three year old's hands comfortingly. "Your momma will be here soon. And then we can go out for ice-cream, and play in the park."

Joy smiled at her niece, trying to keep her thoughts firmly on Jemma and away from what was happening inside. The package that had come for her father weighed on her. Though she had kept near enough to realize it wasn't an explosive, she had overheard Rossi mention sending over forensics. That was enough to make her curious and on-edge.

"Wan' 'ome. Wan' 'ome." Jemma sniffled, only partially catching what aunt Joy had said. Her burnt umber eyes were scrunched up and heavy with tears. She hiccuped. "Wan' pahpaa. Pah'aah."

"Jem, shh. It's all..." Joy paused when she heard the door open behind her, and she glanced over to see Rossi. Her eyes widened slightly seeing her father's face and the expression on it. "Dad...?"

"..." Rossi faltered, thrown off of his original reason for approaching his daughter once he heard Jemma crying. Despite his granddaughter's toddler-pronunciation, he'd understood the gist of her words. And it struck him like a stone, even more so when he realized that she meant Linnet, not James. The three-year-old had yet to meet her real father, let alone miss him. Rossi drew in a steadying breath, trying to focus his attention back on what he originally wanted to say.

"Dad, what was in that package?" Joy asked, holding Jemma close, whose cries started to taper off.

Rossi shook his head, flashing a look at his daughter that read she should know he couldn't answer that. "Nothing you should worry about. Besides, it seems like Jemma could use a nap." He gestured to the toddler, noticing how her cries had started giving way to yawns. "I noticed you already laid Kai down for a nap. His cousin could use one too." Rossi knelt down and smiled at his granddaughter, hiding the turmoil her innocent cries for 'home' and 'papa' had caused. Once he caught Jemma's attention he spoke as well as signed. "Time for a nap, Jemma."

"Gran'pah, no nahp. Wan' mahma." Jemma mumbled, her pronunciation even more slurred due to drowsiness. Despite her resistance, she hugged Rossi and laid her head against him, yawning. Her eyes closed and she quickly fell asleep before the man could bat an eye. "Nwoh nahp."

Both Joy's and David Rossi's smiles warmed as Jemma continued mumbling even as she dozed off.

"...wow. I tried getting her to sleep before I laid Kai down for a nap without progress, and now..." Joy muttered lightheartedly, her heart widened by the adorableness of her niece. "I think we know who her favorite person is."

Rossi blinked back the moisture in his eyes, overwhelmed by his daughter's observation. More so because it was true, at least going by how comfortable his granddaughter was with him compared to the rest of those she'd met over the past nine weeks. Though Jemma still disliked the Italian dishes he tried cooking for her, the three-year-old favored him when it came to everything else. Even more than her uncle Spencer.

"I'll go put Jemma to bed." Rossi kissed the top of his granddaughter's head as he and Joy entered the mansion. He paused however as the sound of vehicles approaching up the driveway caught their attention. It took only seconds for him to realize it was his team and forensics come to investigate the gruesome package he'd received. He grimaced at the timing and handed Jemma over to Joy, who proceeded to bring her niece to the room where Kai was napping.

0

The walls were dark, painted a drab gray that absorbed much of the light from the weak bulb hung from the ceiling. The floor was a cold concrete, rough and not much different in hue from the walls.

"Please, I'll do anything you want. Please." A woman with fair skin and strawberry blonde hair pleaded, her arms tied over her head. Her thin wrists were bound by a plastic rope that dug deeper into her skin the more she struggled. "Please, don't do this. Please."

"Hush. Hush. Shh." A man smirked, approaching the woman. His eyes roamed over her body hungrily and excited though also cold. In his hands he held a camcorder, which he placed onto a small stool in front of the woman. "The woman before you shouted herself hoarse. It was a pity. I liked her voice."

"Please." The woman whimpered, her lips trembling. Her whole body numb with fear. "Why are you doing this? Let me go."

The man bit his lip lustfully, and knelt down in front of the woman. His eyes locked on her face, especially on the area around her eyes. He lingered over the scars around them, going so far as to touch the shut eyelids.

"Did you cry like this when he did this to you?" The man sneered, his thumb caressing the corner of the woman's eye by her temple. His lips twitched when the woman tried pulling away but couldn't, her legs refusing to budge and her arms bound.

"Stop...please..." The woman shivered, nausea welling in her stomach.

"I bet you looked lovely with your blue-green eyes, I wish I could've seen them." The man grinned, his face inches from hers. He eyed her a moment, deep in thought and oblivious to her whimpers. "I wonder why he switched from brunettes..."

"...Please...please. Let me go."

"Why? Don't you want this?" The man whispered, his eyes lit with arousal. "It must be unbearable to be trapped in darkness. I can free you from it."

The woman shook her head, her protest dying in her throat. She trembled.

The man simply laughed.


	6. Chapter 6

**And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter Six:**

Burnt sienna eyes slowly took in their surroundings, absorbing the decorations, space, and scenery. Alsie walked beside Spencer, her heart and mind impatient to see her daughter but at the same time terrified. Though she was more stable now than nine weeks ago, she was terrified of Jemma denying her. Of Jemma saying she wanted Linnet or Jemma calling Linnet 'papa.'

"It'll be fine. Don't worry." Spencer whispered to his sister, reaching for her hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. The corner of his lips twitched - this situation was so similar to when he'd brought Alsie to the BAU to tell Rossi about her and James. She'd been so nervous, she'd grabbed Spencer's hand.

Alsie smiled up at Spencer, but withdrew her hand. Her outburst at the hospital was still fresh in her thoughts, including what she confessed to her brother. That she loved him since they were children. That she still did, despite everything.

"Oh! Hello." Joy, having just entered the hall, greeted Spencer before her gaze drifted onto Alsie. "You must be Alsie. I'm Joy Struthers."

"Hi..." Alsie replied, smiling weakly. Her brow furrowed a moment as she placed the name. During her nine week stay in the hospital, David Rossi had visited or called frequently to tell her about how Jemma was doing. He also had mentioned that he had an adult daughter and a grandson. "...where's Jemma?"

"She's taking a nap." Joy replied, gesturing to the room she just exited. Before she could say anything more, Alsie entered the room in question and hurried over to her daughter. Not bothering to close the door. The look on Alsie's face as she knelt beside the slumbering three-year-old was enough that Joy didn't mind the other woman's abruptness.

"Thank you for helping with Jemma." Spencer whispered, his own gaze locked on Alsie and his niece. His stomach knotted.

"Not a problem. She's family." Joy reassured, smiling at Spencer. It had been a shock for her when she found out about her half-brother James being switched at birth, even more so when she read the articles about what he'd done. It had taken a few days to wrap her head around the facts - she had refused to believe it at first, and hadn't until she heard it from her dad directly. "It's lucky that the media haven't found out about Jemma. Or Alsie."

"Yeah." Spencer mumbled, his eyes still focused on his sister and his niece. Making him miss the scrutinizing look Joy gave him. Once he did notice it he blinked, confused. "What is it?"

"...You're Jemma's uncle biologically, and not just because you're part of the BAU family, aren't you?" Joy said, her eyes lighting up in triumph at the look her words brought to Spencer's face. Before the genius could do more than sputter, she continued. "Dad didn't tell me. I just had a feeling there was something about Jemma's mother that he wouldn't divulge. And seeing you and Alsie side by side right now, I figured out what it was. I'm not sure why, though. Why keep it a secret?"

Spencer swallowed, uncomfortable. He hadn't specifically asked any of his team to keep him having a sister secret, but he knew they knew he was uncomfortable telling others. "...our mom doesn't know yet, about Alsie."

"Huh? Why wouldn't..." Joy's eyes widened, her brain locking on an idea. "My god. Is Alsie...one of those who were taken by Connell as well? Like James?"

Spencer's uncomfortable and sad smile was answer enough for Joy. The journalist turned towards Alsie, more concerned about the brunette than ever.

"My god. That's awful. That's..." Joy shook her head, flabbergasted. Her journalistic curiosity took hold and asked a question before she could rethink it. "Is that how she met James?"

"Wha...no. That..." Spencer faltered in his denial, the question making him realize that none of them knew actually how James and Alsie had met. Each of them had had their own guess about how the two met, but none of them had asked either that question.

"...we met outside a bar. It was raining, he had been drinking, and I offered to drive him home." Alsie interrupted, turning to glance at the two standing by the door. Her brow furrowed, her recollection after driving James hazy. It had been during the time when she was still taking narcotics, so she couldn't be sure if her lack of recollection was drug-induced or from her D.I.D. Until recently she had assumed it was the former.

"Oh. So it was by chance?" Joy asked and approached Alsie, brimming with curiosity. She didn't know much of anything about her half-brother, aside from his being switched at birth and his crimes. And what she'd seen of and heard about Alsie, made her curious about how someone responsible for such horrors could be with someone so nice.

"..." Spencer watched his sister's face, recognizing her confusion and trepidation. It was the same look she gave over recent weeks as she started coming to grips with her diagnosis, and questioning her blackouts. His stomach clenched, understanding how accurate his and the team's hypothesis had been. If Alsie had shifted to an alter shortly after meeting James, it had to be because he'd attacked her. "Alsie, I..."

Alsie shook her head slightly and gave a small, demure smile. "I'm fine. Besides, the team called about a case while we were on our way here. You should go help. It has to be important if they called on your day off."

Spencer shook his head. "I'm staying here to help with Jemma. I wasn't called in."

Even as he lied, he could tell Alsie wanted to believe him but was confused. Joy too gave him an unbelieving look. He grimaced, thinking about the call Alsie had mentioned.

 _-"There's an unsub copying James' M.O. Unlike James though, this unsub is killing his victims." Hotch said, after Spencer assured him Alsie couldn't overhear. "This unsub is targeting James' rape victims. He hopefully doesn't know about Alsie, and even though she isn't a victim of James', it'd be best not to chance it. You should stick with Alsie and Jemma until we catch this unsub."-_

"I'm not leaving you or Jemma. All right?" Spencer repeated, deciding it was best to stick with the truthful part rather than the false.

"...all right." Alsie replied, still giving her brother a slightly dubious stare.

0

 _Tape:_

 _-"Please! Stop!" The burgundy haired woman screamed, struggling to move though unable. Her legs were useless, unmoving and her wrists were rubbed raw from the plastic rope tied around them._

 _There were some muffled sounds, a question asked by the unsub off camera. Or a comment. Whatever it was, the woman's eyes widened._

 _"I don't...please...I don't know. I don't..." The woman stammered, each words punctuated by a sob. It was getting more and more difficult to stay conscious. What looked like a splotch of blood on her shirt was steadily growing larger._

 _There was a cold, unamused chuckle and then a man strode in front of the camera. He was obscured by shadow and the fact that his back was to the camera. In his hand was a long darning needle, sharpened to a point and with a makeshift hand-grip. It was designed so the needle wouldn't slide from the man's grip._

 _The man pushed the woman forward, and readied the darning needle at her spine._

x

Hotch stopped the video, saving the rest of the BAU, and especially Garcia, from having to see the unsub actually stab his victim's spine. It was only a modicum of relief, since the details were present in the case files each agent had.

"...this is from the tape the unsub sent to Rossi?" Morgan asked, reading over the autopsy report on the victim found in New Jersey.

"Yes. And facial recognition software confirmed this is the same victim whose body was found by New Jersey police. Who they've identified as Olivia Sutters. Aged 38. Originally from Poughkeepsie, New York." Garcia interjected before Hotch could. "I'm running a search on her, trying to see if I can figure out where she and the unsub may have crossed paths."

"What about the other thing the unsub sent to Rossi?" JJ inquired, refraining from mentioning the word 'eyes' in respect of the tech analyst's squeamishness.

"You mean the um..." Garcia faltered, the image of gouged out eyeballs flashing in his thought. "Well, um..."

"Preliminary DNA tests have confirmed them to be the victim's." Hotch replied in the tech analyst's stead.

"I'm curious why this unsub went from attacking women previously attacked by James, to attacking an unconnected woman." Tara spoke as she reread part of the file. "Especially since this unsub abducted his latest victim from New York. Some of James' most recent victims still live in the state, right?"

"Yes. And they're being brought into protective custody just in case." Hotch answered. He paused a moment. "Because of the possibility of James having known the unsub or come in contact with him, we should question him."

"...James is still refusing to speak to any of us though, right? Even after we found Jemma." JJ asked, her expression concerned. Rossi hadn't told them specifically what James had said the last time he visited James in prison, a few weeks after finding Jemma, but it had been enough to make the senior agent furious.

"Agent Fitzgerald has offered to interview him, since it's..." The sound of the door opening interrupted the unit chief. Before Hotch could continue, Rossi entered the room agitated. Cam Fitzgerald followed behind him. Hotch's eyebrows rose slightly, and then his eyes narrowed by the same amount. "Rossi...? Fitzgerald? Did James...?"

Rossi shook his head, his expression more livid than any of them thought it would be if James' had simply refused an interview.

"There was some incident at the prison, between James and a guard..." Cam started to explain, her heterochromatic gaze on Rossi.

"They threw him back in solitary, Hotch." Rossi seethed, shaking his head in disbelief. His mind filled with the not too distant memory of seeing his son unconscious in the prison's medical wing. The result of a psychotic break following being thrown in solitary. "Even after what happened last time, they still..." He trailed off, muttering a few choice words in English and Italian.


	7. Chapter 7

**And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter 7:**

A small woman, dressed in a long pleated skirt with warm orange hued rings circling around at the bottom hem and a white knitted sweater over a simple blouse, sat in the corner booth. Heavy sunglasses over her eyes and just a dab of pale pink gloss on her lips, she sat rock still and listened to her surroundings. The humdrum clashing of silverware and plates, the scuffling of feet walking through the restaurant, the low screeching of doors opening and closing - all descended on her ears.

She never knew just how many sounds there were in everyday life, she'd always been too overwhelmed seeing the world to grasp its music. There were simply too many things in life taken for granted, always assumed to be there until they weren't. It was a lesson that she'd been forced to learn over the past sixteen or so weeks. Along with another, more painful one.

She sighed, her smile shrinking. Familiar footsteps approaching drew her attention, and she dressed her face with a smile.

"...I bought you a veggie sandwich, no mayo or mustard, and light on the olive oil. Just like you asked. Also a cold brew iced coffee, with hazelnut flavored cream." Her companion, a middle-aged lady with premature graying hair and warm eyes, sat down and placed two cups on the table. "Here. Tell me if there's not enough creamer, okay? I'll get some more." The lady smiled sadly as she watched the first woman reach tentatively for the coffee. Her heart twinged at the sight, but made no comment. "The sandwich will take a few minutes, but they'll bring it over when it's done."

"..." The first woman simply nodded, sipping her coffee through the straw in her cup. The cold liquid splashed on her tongue, welcomed in its delicious sweetness. It smelled wonderful.

"Mel, um...have you given any thought what you're going to do?" The lady asked, her warm eyes flitting from Melissa's sunglasses to the walking stick folded and laid upon the table. "I mean...I know you tried and are still trying to decide, but..."

Melissa bit her inner cheek, the lady's words biting her despite the careful and kind tone.

"No one in the family understands why you want to keep..." The lady trailed off and grimaced. Her eyes averted a moment before returning to Melissa's face, they widened before growing soft at the quivering lips. "I'm sorry. It's all right. Mel..."

"You think I should...that I should have already...once I found out..." Melissa swallowed, her breath catching in her throat. She sobbed, her chest burning. Her hand unconsciously rubbed her abdomen.

"I'm sorry. No, I..." The lady bit her lip, cutting off her own denial. "I'm just worried that you don't really know how it's going to affect...everything. You'd have a hard enough time even if the situation was less...unusual..."

Melissa shivered, sniffling. Her stomach roiled with nausea. "I know. I know. I just...it's difficult. It's not its fault..." She whispered the last bit while rubbing her stomach.

Before either could break the silence that had suddenly descended between them, their food arrived. It continued on unbearably while the server placed down Melissa's veggie sandwich and the lady's small chef salad. And didn't abate until the server was well across the restaurant, behind the counter.

"Mel..." The lady started to speak when her cell phone rang. Its twinging tone caused Melissa to flinch. She grimaced, standing up her eyes glancing at the display. "I...I'll just be a second, all right? I love you, Mel, you know that right? No matter what you decide."

Melissa just nodded and smiled wistfully, her hand still pressed against her abdomen.

The lady hurried towards a quiet hall, one which led towards the restrooms before answering her cell. Both for privacy and to respect any other patrons not wishing to overhear her phone call.

"Hello? Yes, this is Catherine Joyce. What..." The lady paused, her brow knit in confusion as she listened to her caller. Her demeanor grew increasingly concerned. "What do you mean, Melissa's in danger? That bastard's still in prison, right? Why then...?" She squeezed the cell phone, her temper ready to flare.

Her eyes narrowed, her brain overfilled with bile as she thought about what had happened to Melissa in New York. She blinked, her anger slipping as the caller mentioned bringing Melissa into protective custody.

"Is it that serious...?" Catherine mumbled, her body tensing with fear. She drew in a sharp breath at the caller's reply. "...Dead? Murdered? But...yes. Yes. We're at a neighborhood eatery. We'll wait. Hm? No, she's sitting down in the dining area, I...All right, I'll go get her."

Catherine chewed on her lip as she scurried back towards the dining area, the phone still at her ear. Her eyes immediately locked on the booth where she'd left Melissa.

"What? Where?" All color drained from her face as she beheld the empty booth, the untouched food and drinks still set out on the table. As was Melissa's walking stick. _'No. Please no.'_

 _-"Mrs. Joyce? Is everything all right? Is Melissa..."-_

Catherine hurried towards the table, her first thought that Melissa may have gone to the restroom. That was until she realized she'd been standing feet away from the only restroom until moments ago. She would've have seen Melissa.

Besides, her step-daughter would never have left her walking stick behind - she may have been forgetful and reluctant to use it at first, but since finding out about...

 _-"Mrs. Joyce...? What is...?"-_

"She's gone. She's...I left her at the booth, she's not there. She's..." Catherine felt her heart tighten, her palms sweaty. She barely registered anything the man on the phone said, her thoughts all wrapped in her worry. The walking stick laid on the table laughing back at her.

0

 _-Flashback-_

 _"Let me out!" A small boy screamed, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. His fists were red and sore from banging incessantly on the door. "Let me out! Please!"_

 _A sliding sound cut through the air, and his chestnut eyes gazed up at the viewing slot high above him on the door. He shivered and backed away so he could see the eyes peeking down at him._

 _"Please. Dr. Somerfield. I did what you wanted. Let me out." The boy pleaded, showing his hands and the scalpel he held. Both were matted with blood, the red liquid shined vividly beneath the overhead lights._

 _"Hm." Was the only response, though the sound of the door being unlocked echoed in the room. The boy felt his heart lighten, anxious for the door to open. His thoughts and legs geared on hurrying to the infirmary._

 _"Mew...Mew." Kalic's weakened mewl started up, the cat having been woken by the lock turning. The boy's face drained of color, his chestnut eyes round._

 _"Why is that creature still alive, S...James?" Somerfield growled at the young boy, his virulent gaze searching the room for the feline. "You know what happens when you lie to me."_

 _"But I didn't...I did what you asked. See?" James pleaded, dropping the scalpel and digging in his pocket. He showed what he held to Somerfield, proffering the blood covered orbs. He swallowed, the feel of the eyes in his hands sickening. "Please. Kalic will die if you don't help him. He won't scratch you again. Please!"_

 _Somerfield shook his head, making a tsking sound. "...you never get it...what am I even doing with you? Such a failure."_

 _"Please...Kalic will..."_

 _"Then he'll die, locked in this room. And so will you if you don't take that scalpel and finish the job." Somerfield growled, the door once again shut and locked. He remained just outside, staring down at the trembling boy. "You have five minutes."_

 _James swallowed, picking up the scalpel. It dropped from his trembling fingers twice before he managed to grip it tightly. Kalic's mewls continued to drift through the room, crashing on his ears._

 _"Four minutes." Somerfield drawled cruelly. His eyes watched coldly as the boy walked over to the suffering feline, his lips pulled taut. He almost snarled when the scalpel fell from the boy's hands a third time, and James didn't bother to pick them up._

 _His eyes narrowed as the boy hurried toward a cabinet, leaving the cat crying on the floor._

 _"James...three minutes." He seethed in warning, the next moment mumbling something the boy barely caught._

 _James paused, confused by the mumble, but only briefly. The next moment he hurried back towards the cat, a syringe in his hand. Somerfield barely muttered 'two minutes' before the boy pierced the cat with the syringe, squeezing the plunger._

 _Kalic's pained and frightened cries quickly ceased, as did his breathing. James silently placed the now empty syringe down and held the cat, shaking. Whispering apology after apology._

x

The throbbing of his wrist was the first thing James felt as the memory faded. The stale stench of the room and the quiet were what he became aware of next. His eyes flew open, only to be engulf by darkness.

 _'No...'_ He mumbled, taking in a deep breath, trying to forestall panic. It took a moment or two for him to recollect where he was and what had happened. He closed his eyes. 'That guard...the bastard...'

He kept his eyes shut, squeezed tightly against the darkness. The longer he closed his eyes, the more of a chance he had of retaining control. But...how long would it be before they let him out? Days? Weeks? Would he be able to keep his eyes closed for that long? How long had he been in here for already?

 _'Hmh. I didn't even do it on purpose, the bastard.'_ James gritted his teeth, recalling the incident that'd gotten him put in solitary. He'd been perusing the book that the other prisoner had given him, when the door to his cell had opened.

So engrossed in the book he'd been, he hadn't even glanced at whoever it was who entered his cell. It wasn't until the book had been ripped from his hands that he noticed the guard leering over him. He'd recognized the guard immediately as the new hire who loved taunting the prisoners. Though he hadn't bothered with James before.

 _-"Give that back."-_ James had growled, lunging at the book, intent on ripping it out of the guard's grip. Prisoners were allowed books, and only lost the privilege under very few circumstances. Namely for disciplinary issues. James hadn't caused problems for the guards for over six weeks, he had had no disciplinary action barring him from any prison privileges. Especially not a simple one like reading books.

The guard had simply laughed at him, keeping the book just out of reach and having fun playing the bully. It had irritated James, and honestly he was considering punching the man, but what ended up happening had been an accident.

On his way towards the guard, James had stumbled over his feet; his right leg had refused to move properly for a moment and, combined with his momentum, he'd fallen forward. The impact had pushed the newbie guard backwards, knocking him down.

James had no time to comprehend what had happened, yet alone explain it before the guard was hauling him off to solitary. Not that this guard would've listened to any protest from him.

James shifted so he was lying on his back, his eyes still shut. He stretched out his arms above him, squeezing and releasing his fists repeatedly. Taking in a measured breath, he focused on his hands - though he couldn't see them he did feel one of his fingers twitch. He tried to squeeze his fists even tighter, as though to cut off circulation but quickly dropped his arms.

"Shit." He groaned, his jaw clenched. He shivered. ' _Don't think about that. Don't. It's pointless in here. It's pointless.'_

He breathed in deeply, another memory spilling out behind his eyelids.

 _-"Why haven't...? That's foolish...don't you want to be prepared?" Alsie demanded, her eyes staring at him with concern. Her hands reached for his. "James, if she..."_

 _"It makes no difference." He replied, grabbing her hands and focusing on the smooth feel of her fingers. His lips twitched as he imagined what they could do - what they had done the night before. Smirking devilishly, he kissed each digit and teasingly nibbled at the knuckles._

 _"Hh..." Alsie drew in a breath, her thoughts going awry. The sensation of James' teeth and mouth on her fingers was titillating, driving away her questions. "...James..."_

 _James simply smirked and laid his other hand on her stomach, causing a shiver to go through her. "You want a baby, right? Why don't we continue off from last night. Everything else can wait."_

 _"...but James, if she...if..." Alsie gasped, the next moment straddling James' lap as he pulled her in for a kiss, his hand still wrapped firmly around hers. It was a strong, comforting grip. And soon she was kissing him back, tentative but hungrily. "James..."_

 _"I promise I'll get the test done later, right now let's just..." James said breathily, picking up the petite woman and carrying her towards the bedroom. -_

The clacking sound of the door opening and the intrusion of light into the dark cell pulled James from the highly welcomed memory. A memory that had started to have a certain effect on him before the interruption.

"What the fuc..." He groaned, the urge to tell whoever it was to shut the door flashed through his thoughts. It froze in his throat though as the corrections officer growled that he was being transferred to a different ward.

The guard also mumbled about a lawyer being here to talk to him, as well as a request from the FBI to question James about something.

Though confused about the lawyer bit, James shrugged it off, not at all disliking how the CO grumbled because of it. It seemed that someone somewhere had gone over the CO's head to get him out of solitary quickly, and James wasn't foolish enough to jeopardize it.

0

 **A/N: Wow, it started to get a bit naughty towards the end, there. Hopefully I managed to keep it T-rated - I've always had difficulty with ratings since the books I read and shows I watched as a child, preteen, and teenager were always above the 'appropriate' age-group. (I read high school/college level Greek Philosophy books in Elementary school & adult horror and erotica books in Middle School...).**

 **(Side-note: I love Reid since he's the one character in the show I can most relate to; not counting the over-genius IQ & eidetic memory (as well as me being female), he's so much like me...I swear we should be twins. (Is it sad that I don't relate to any of the female characters in Criminal Minds?))**

 **Anyway, what did you think? Please review! It'll be interesting to know how many picked up on the clues to future developments I have in this chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

**And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter 8:**

"Oh, god, this can't be happening." Catherine Joyce mumbled, her cheeks streaked with tears, her hands shaking. Around her were the oppressive sounds of the local precinct - the chattering, footsteps, phones ringing all rolled together. It was excruciating, sitting there thinking about Melissa, wondering what the monster was doing to her stepdaughter.

She'd helped raise Melissa since the girl was four, she was her mother in every way except biologically. It horrified her to sit there and think about what was happening. Her brain kept telling her she needed to go out and look for her stepdaughter, that the police didn't know anything when they insisted she stay to be questioned by the FBI. What the hell good would that do?! She wanted to scream. Melissa had been brutalize the first time by the son of a FBI agent, why the hell should she trust them?!

It made no difference to Catherine that the agent's son had been switched at birth or kidnapped or whatever according to an article she'd read. The bastard who had attacked Melissa nearly sixteen weeks ago was an FBI agent's son, and parents instinctively protected their children. No matter what. Even if it is against the consequence of their own actions.

Catherine had protected Melissa from responsibility so many times through the years, she knew it was true. And she imagined it would be more true if the bastard had been kidnapped as a child.

"...Mrs. Joyce?" Tara Lewis approached the woman, followed closely by Cam Fitzgerald. Both women took out their credentials and showed Catherine. "I'm agent Lewis and this is agent Fitzgerald. First, let me assure you we're doing everything we can to find Melissa. And it would help if you could answer some questions. Do you think you're up to it?"

"Do you work with that bastard's father?" Catherine snapped, her eyes narrowed. Her response surprised the two agents, though Tara quickly realized who the woman referred to and replied back calmly.

"Mrs. Joyce, the man who attacked your daughter in New York almost four months ago is still in prison, and he will remain there indefinitely. He is not behind this." Tara kept her tone calm, though she noticed Cam tense up out of the corner of her eye. She wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have a different agent join her. Though she barely knew Cam Fitzgerald, she had heard the young agent viewed Rossi highly, and it showed in her body language now.

"That doesn't answer my question." Catherine hissed, crossing her arms. The stubbornness that had always been part of her nature on full display in her face. "Do you work with that monster's father?"

"Mrs..."

Cam, glaring at the woman, cut through Tara's measured response. Her tone clipped and harsh. "Look, all right, we can sit here and waste time or we can help find your daughter. If you don't want to help, tell us now, that way we don't waste the time we could be using to find the current son of a bitch who has your daughter on trying to crack through your damn obstinacy."

Catherine returned the young agent's glare, but at the same time grew pale. Her stubbornness and distrust was dwarfed from her fear for Melissa. "I...all right. I'll answer whatever questions. I don't know if they'll be much help, but...Just find Melissa, please."

Tara nodded, her eyes widened slightly by Cam's outburst. It had been a foolhardy thing to do, since it could easily have caused Catherine to refuse to speak to them. She once again wondered if it'd been better if Cam had gone with one of the others.

"All right. We'd like to try something called a cognitive interview. Close your eyes, please." Tara waited a moment while Catherine did so. "Think back to the restaurant. What it smelled like and what sounds there were. Was there anything that stuck out? A person or a sound? Maybe someone paying too close attention to Melissa?"

"No. There wasn't anything...like that..." Catherine replied, her certainty trailing off as she remembered. "Wait, the server who brought us our food. There was something about him. Something...I'm not sure. He seemed to linger longer at our table, and he kept glancing at Mel." Catherine grimaced, her eyes still closed, and mumbled a comment about how the stares weren't so unusual since what happened to Melissa in New York. "This was different though. I'm not sure..."

The woman paused, her face scrunching up and her body tensing. Even though Tara prompted her to remember more, Catherine remained reluctant to continue.

0

With a clenched jaw and glowering face, Rossi stared at the file Cam had brought to Hotch. He barely registered a word he read, his thoughts split between the BAU's current case, and how James was back in solitary. Neither of which he could help with. Perhaps if he hadn't almost gone ballistic on the prison warden once he'd heard his son had been placed in solitary confinement, he...

The senior agent sighed, grumbling as he realized that even if he had kept his temper in check, he still wouldn't have been able to question James. They needed an unbiased, accurate interview, and it was highly probable that James would've done everything he could to rile Rossi up. Such an interview wouldn't have helped anyone.

He glared back at the file he held, his brain focusing on the info it contained to avoid thinking about being unable to help on the current case. Cruz had been on the fence about taking Rossi off the James-copycat case for the possible conflict-of-interest, since the older man was a seasoned agent. The moment the section chief learned about the unsub sending the gruesome package to Rossi directly however, he'd ordered the senior agent off investigating the case. It was either that or giving the case to another team.

Rossi, still reeling over learning James had been thrown back in solitary, had nearly gone off on Cruz for the decision. Something that Hotch noticed quickly, and had curtailed by suggesting Rossi help with the case Cam had brought.

 _-"Linnet claimed to Fitzgerald that one of his victims was her mother." Hotch spoke after grabbing the older agent's arm. It took only moments for the irritation on Rossi's countenance to shift to concern._

 _"Cam's mom? Linnet killed her...?" Rossi took the manila file Hotch held out, flipping open to the top page. His attention flitting between it and the unit chief._

 _"Fitzgerald asked the team to look into Linnet's claim, before we got called in. Perhaps you could do so?" Hotch suggested, knowing from Rossi's concern for the younger agent that he would agree to the suggestion.-_

Rossi massaged his forehead, reading the file on Violet Brant - the woman Linnet claimed was Cam's mother. There wasn't a photo of her from before her body was discovered in an abandoned construction site, and her wounds had been extensive enough that any identifying facial features had been obscured. Though judging by hair color and skin pigmentation, as well as age, it was possible the woman was related to Cam.

That alone proved nothing, however. If the woman had heterochromia like Cam, it'd be more definitive, since the trait was rare and possibly genetic. At least Rossi presumed so from what he recalled years ago when Spencer had commented on Cam's heterochromia. Still, the woman not having it didn't disprove her being the young woman's mother.

"Hm." Rossi's dark-chestnut eyes shifted from the crime scene photos, to the notes written by the M.E. It all fit with what they knew Linnet did to his victims, and as such he nearly missed catching an odd detail noted in the autopsy report.

 _-Cause of death: asphyxiation. Bruising indicative of hesitance.-_

"What?" Rossi mumbled, shaking his head. He thought about the man they caught nine weeks ago, and about the other victims. Not once did Linnet show any remorse. That the monster would've showed hesitance was baffling, it hadn't even been his first kill. "That's impossible. Unless he got someone else to..."

The senior agent drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. A moment or two of silence passed as he reread the sentence, then the date written on the report. His gut tightened.

This victim had been murdered around the same time Alsie had been in Linnet's custody. And while a seasoned serial killer like Linnet wouldn't have shown hesitance in the kill, a child would.

"The fucking bastard..." Rossi cursed, feeling sick as he realized what the hesitance suggested. Linnet hadn't killed this woman himself, but had forced someone else. And unless there'd been another person, thus far unknown, there at the time, it seemed likely Alsie had been that someone. "...she'd barely been around nine or ten..." He mumbled, followed by a few bilingual swears.

 _'No wonder she still balks at remembering her time at Linnet's. If he forced her to kill...'_ He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he thought about Alsie and what she'd told Hotch, about how the real Allison Schmidt had died. That it'd been an accident, the two girls had been playing by a well and Allison had fallen in.

Rossi rubbed his chin in thought, shifting his thought to the incident between Alsie and Shelly. The confrontation had resulted in the latter woman's death, though it had been in self-defense. At least they'd presumed it was. Alsie's alter Emmie had admitted to attacking Shelly after the woman threatened her, and it'd been likely Shelly had been ready to kill Alsie.

That had been self-defense. Or under mitigating circumstances.

Though what were the odds that Alsie would've been involved in someone's death on three separate occasions?

Rossi shook his head, chasing away the suspicion as being outrageous. Though Linnet may have forced Alsie to kill at least one of his victims, it didn't mean the petite woman would kill others. Forcing others to kill didn't turn them into murderers - just look at James, Somerfield had spent decades trying to turn Rossi's son into a cold-blooded killer and it hadn't worked! The only time James had deliberately tried to kill someone, it'd been trying to mercy-kill Alsie in the hospital. A twisted act, but one meant to be a sort of kindness to the grieving mother of his child.

Rossi sighed, placing down the folder. He rubbed his eyes, not enjoying how his brain kept attempting to profile not just his son but the mother of his grandchild. It was unnecessary. His son was in prison, without any chance at parole, and Alsie had been through enough shit in her life. She didn't need him profiling her. Besides, she was Spencer's twin and Jemma's mother, making her part of the BAU family. The no-profiling rule extended to her.

 _'...Linnet knew Jemma's name though.'_ Rossi mumbled, half in his thoughts and half aloud. _'Either Alsie or James had to have told him. And James...he thought that Somerfield...'_

Rossi tensed, shaking his head against the suspicion. It was ludicrous! Just by watching Alsie's reaction when she was reunited with Jemma, he knew she was a loving mother. She would never have endangered Jemma or herself, and getting in touch with Linnet would've done just that.

Nor would Emmie had done so. Not when that alter had attacked Shelly in response to her disparaging comments about Jemma. And Ana wasn't a...

"Shit..." Rossi mumbled. He hadn't been present at the time, but had learned later about Ana having attacked a nurse. There was another alter Alsie had, who called herself Leigh. He had witnessed her himself during a visit over the last few weeks. It'd been brief, but the glare she'd given had been chilling. None of which meant any of Alsie's alters were murderous, but...at least one was violent.

Yet Alsie herself wasn't, of that much Rossi was sure. Further, she was getting help to control her D.I.D and to deal with what happened to her growing up.

 _'I should focus on Linnet's claim. Not on what Alsie or her alters may or may not have done.'_ Rossi mumbled to himself and focused once more on the file Cam had brought. His uncertainty continued to linger though, even as he focused on the file.

0

The door clanged shut loudly behind him, the guard leaving him alone to spent privately with the lawyer. A man with dark hair, and eyes that studied him closely, sat at the table already. Once he saw James he gestured to the chair across from his.

James gandered at the stranger. His brow furrowed, not sure what to make of the other man, though he wasted no time in sitting down. Despite not knowing who the stranger was nor why or how he suddenly had a lawyer visiting him, he wasn't going to jeopardize it. Not when it could mean being sent straight back to solitary.

"...you're James Rossi. David Rossi's son..."

James glowered at the stranger, trying to place him. As well as trying to figure out why the man was here. He certainly hadn't retained a lawyer, nor did he think his father would on his behalf either. There was no need to anyway - he'd plead guilty to all counts levied against him, and wasn't eligible for parole. So unless someone was trying to get him judged incompetent or whatever, for whatever reason...

"...and Jemma's father." William Reid muttered, studying James. He recognized and expected the confusion on the thirty-six year old's face - it wasn't like he'd informed the man of his visit. Hell, he hadn't even expected to visit the man ever, and had been content to avoid thinking about him. Despite being the father of his granddaughter, James had no connection to him.

"...you know about...who are you?" James hissed, feeling tense. Wary even, not recognizing the stranger despite the feeling he was familiar. "Why are you here?"

William hesitated, not sure how to answer. His brain focused on what his daughter had asked him in the hospital.

 _-"Could you visit James and ask...ask if he kept his promise?" Alsie asked in an unsure voice, holding out a small photo of Jemma. "If he knows..." She mumbled the last bit to low to hear, but simply bit her lip rather than repeat it. "He'll understand. I...and please let him see Jemma's photo. I asked Rossi to give it to James, but...something James said made him angry...and he ended up giving it back."-_

"...who sent..." James started to ask, becoming angrier and tenser. His gaze flitting from the man's face, to the door, then to what was in the stranger's hands. It was small, a paper or something.

"Elsie wanted me to ask if you kept your promise." William blurted, caught between wanting to just do what Alsie requested and leave, and wanting to question James for his own ends.

"...Alsie sent you?" James sat up straight, less tense but more aware. Especially as William's words registered to him. He grimaced, immediately knowing what promise was meant. It'd been the only thing he'd ever promised her. "...are you the lawyer her grandmother used?"

"You mean Mary Schmidt? No." William shook his head. "I'm William Reid. Elsie's father."

James' eyes narrowed, anger scrunching up his face. "Are you...the bastard who molested..."

"No. Hell no." William growled, livid at the accusation. "That was the bastard that took her as a baby. Crawford."

"Oh...what?" James drew back, confused.

"...Tobias Connell sold her, like he did you, as a newborn." William replied, glowering as he thought.

James' eyes widened. It was evident that no one had informed him much about Alsie and that she too had been a victim of Connell and Somerfield's scheme. Before he could digest the information and formulate a reply, the older man repeated his earlier words as an inquiry.

"So did you? Keep your promise to my daughter? Did you keep your promise to Elsie?" William demanded, his eyes glaring at the man across from him.


	9. Chapter 9

**And Carried Me Away  
Chapter 9:**

"So did you? Keep your promise to my daughter? Did you keep your promise to Elsie?" William demanded, his eyes glaring at the man across from him. Despite not knowing what promise Alsie meant, he felt adamant about knowing if James had kept it.

"...why should I trust you? Huh? That you are who you say you are? Or what you said about Alsie is true? For all I know you could be the one who mol..." James trailed off, tensing at the anger on the other man's face.

"Why?" William scowled, his eyes narrowed and face scrunched up in a potential snarl. "Why don't you give me a reason to trust that you did not force yourself on my daughter like you did with those other women? Just because you didn't injure Elsie doesn't prove anything. Not to a father."

James drew back in his chair, his eyes locked on the man before him. The anger itself hadn't perturbed him, but rather the expression. Especially the way the man's irises shifted to a darker shade in his rage.

"...Alsie's eyes do the same thing when she's pissed." James mumbled, blinking as he mulled over his observation. His lips twitched. "...I did it. What I promised, I mean."

"...what did you promise?" William asked, not missing the lack of denial from James on his other question. It made him more keen to interrogate the younger man, his fatherly instincts screaming to find out the exact nature of the relationship between this man and his daughter. If James had hurt Alsie...

"I never looked at the results though." James continued, still skirting around answering the stranger's own questions. "There was no point, after Jemma was taken. How she was taken...the doctors and police thought she'd have died. There was no point then, in knowing. Either way."

"..." William waited for James to elaborate further, curious and irritated. The patience he had from being a lawyer growing thin as his protective paternal instinct strengthened. The younger man's mumbles made it seem that whatever it was, the promise involved Jemma as well as Alsie. "What did you promise? If you don't tell me and it hurts my daughter or granddaughter..."

James scowled, before mumbling a response. One that William nearly missed. As it was, he caught only the last bit, but it was enough that his anger was trampled with concern. "...markers for ALS."

"What? You..." William tensed, his gaze locked on the younger man. "You have..."

James shrugged, subconsciously wringing his hands and sinking his nails against his palm. "...I never opened the results letter for the genetic test I promised Alsie I'd get done. She'd insisted on it after finding out my real mom had it."

William drew in a breath, reeling from the revelation. It felt like being hit in the gut as he mulled it over, realizing what it potentially meant for Jemma. If James did have the genetic markers for ALS, and he'd passed it on to Jemma...

"..." James watched William, his chestnut eyes lingering over the man's upset face. The next moment he averted them, and mulled over William's other question. His eyes gleamed as he thought, recollecting his time with Alsie. Those years were some of the most vivid yet most hazy in his life. Especially the earliest ones. His mouth twisted into a thin smirk. "...Is it rape if both are willing? If both consent?"

William tensed, thrown by the sudden shift of topic, but it was James' smug tone that disturbed him. It was a tone no father would want to hear from any guy with an interest in his daughter. Let alone a one who was a convicted rapist. He glowered at James, what he knew about Alsie's D.I.D from Dr. Freeman dressing his response. "...Yes it is, if one isn't of sound mind. If you did anything with Elsie while she was under control of an alter or narcotics, it was non-consensual. And I..."

"Even if it was her alter Ana who tied me down and had her way with me?" James interjected, his smirk widening at the man's reaction. He nearly chortled seeing the man's expression shift from anger to horror and disgust. It was obvious that William hadn't expected James to offer any detail of James' and Alsie's physical relationship. "Multiple times. Well, most of our sex was like that the first few years, a bit uncomfortable but she did give really..."

"Stop. I don't...Just shut up." William demanded, feeling nauseous and furious at the younger man's words. The only thing that stopped him from lunging at James was the sickened feeling in his gut. A sensation made worse when the mention of Ana reminded him of the flirtation he'd received from that alter. It still made him cringe. "I swear, I'll fuckin hit you if you..."

"Hey, hey, all right." James lifted his hands up in mock surrender. "I'll keep that stuff to myself. It is something private between Alsie and I, after all. Right? Not something a father needs to know. Right?" He smirked, delighting in how his oversharing had the desired effect of curtailing the other man's intrusive questions.

0

"...I understand. But we need to question him. There's a current case we're investigating and he could have information." Hotch spoke, phone pressed against his ear. His stoic face exuded an aura of impatience, his jaw taut. He paused, listening to the other end. His brow creased slightly as he listened.

"Hotch..." Morgan entered the room, his words trailing off as he noticed the unit chief on the phone.

"What lawyer? He doesn..." Hotch's words tapered off as he listened to the other's reply. His eyes, narrowed slightly in suspicion, widened in surprise by the same amount. "That's the name the lawyer gave? All right. That's...fine. All right."

Watching the unit chief curiously, Morgan waited while Hotch finished the call and hung up. The latter's stoic face was difficult to read, but Morgan caught tidbits of irritation and surprise. "...what was that about a lawyer? That was the prison James' is in, right? When did he get a lawyer?"

Hotch shook his head. "He didn't. It appears, for some reason he'll have to explain, William Reid decided to visit James under the guise of being his lawyer."

"Wh...what?" Morgan gaped, flummoxed, his eyes widened. He mumbled a brief 'why would' before his stomach tensed, an explanation occurring to him. "If Mr. Reid's gone to speak to James, it has to be about Alsie. About whether James had..." Morgan hesitated, unable and not needing to finish his sentence. Ever since finding out about James and Alsie's relationship, each of them had wondered about it. If it had been truly consensual or not.

None of them had discussed it, preferring to keep it as something they didn't know. Or want to know. Especially after it became apparent that Alsie had mostly good memories about James.

"I know." Hotch replied, dialing a number on his cell phone. "I'm going to try getting hold of Mr. Reid before he leaves the prison."

0

The room was the peaceful sort of quiet, and was soothingly lit by the sunlight streaming through the thinly curtained windows. Alsie smiled, her gaze soft as she lied next to her slumbering daughter. The three year old was adorable as she slept, kicking at her blanket every now and then with her small legs.

Alsie gazed at Jemma, and pushed back a few strands of hair from the toddler's face. She listened to her daughter's breathing, her eyes watering. The small legs kicking the blanket reminded her of when she'd first felt her daughter kick.

"...I wish I could've given birth normally to you." Alsie whispered, smiling sadly at Jemma. Her eyes flitted to the toddler's ear, and the tears she'd tried holding back started falling. "I wish I found you before..." She swallowed and just continued staring at her daughter while blinking away her tears.

A soft rapping from the doorway drew her attention, her burnt sienna eyes glancing up at the source. She flashed a demure smile at Spencer, who stood just outside of the room, before returning her gaze to the toddler.

"...hey." Spencer flashed a similar smile, his eyes lingering over the sight of Alsie lying next to Jemma, watching her sleep. He hesitated, reading the fear in his sister's eyes as she stared at her daughter easily. Alsie watched Jemma as though she feared losing the three-year-old at any moment.

Considering that Jemma had been abducted before, it wasn't an irrational fear.

"Um...I thought you and Jemma might be hungry, so lunch is ready." Spencer mumbled, smiling softly at the two. It grew wider as he continued. "And we promised Jemma to bring her out for ice cream today. So..." Spencer faltered once he saw Alsie bite her lip, her frightened and protective gaze flitting between him and Jemma. It wrenched his heart. "Alsie, I'll be there with you both, so will Joy. Nothing is going to happen to Jemma, or you, I promise."

"...I should've looked for her sooner. I should've realized sooner..." Alsie mumbled, lifting herself out of bed carefully, so as not to wake Jemma. The redness of her eyes more clearly evident to her brother.

"Al...that wasn't your fault. Your doctors lied to you. So had James. It..." Spencer approached his sister, grimacing slightly as he mentioned Jemma's father. "None of it was your fault. None of it."

Alsie stared up at her brother, her pained expression showing she wanted to believe him. That she needed to believe him. She frowned and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I know, I just..." She breathed in slowly, averting her eyes back to Jemma. Her lips quivered.

"Alsie, it's..." Spencer gently took hold of and squeezed the petite woman's hand.

"I was so worried when I was pregnant with her." Alsie reached out to stroke Jemma's hair affectionately, pushing a rogue strand out of the slumbering toddler's face. "Worried that I may miscarry again. Worried that Jemma'd be born with a genetic..." Alsie closed her eyes, taking another steadying breath. She chewed on her inner cheek, letting her sentence lapse.

Spencer's eyes widened a tad, and he tensed, thinking about something he'd made an effort not to; considering it'd take decades before the symptoms, if any, to appear. Yet if Jemma ended up developing schizophrenia when she grew up...

"I...I wasn't referring to m...Jemma's grandmother..." Alsie interrupted, realizing what Spencer was thinking. "Either of them...I...um." She grimaced, absentmindedly touching her neck at a few old, and barely discernible scars. Precise scars, like from a surgery. "...you read a lot of technical and medical literature, so certainly you read about Turner's syndrome and its traits..."

Spencer nodded, brow furrowed. "Yes. They include a webbed neck, shorter than average height, possible cardiovascular issues, fertility problems..." He paused and then stared at Alsie, his eyes widening. Even as he glanced at the faint scars on his sister's neck, scars which he'd dismissed mulling over in his concern for the worse scarring on Alsie's face, Spencer shook his head in disbelief.

"...dealing with my webbed neck was the one thing the Crawfords ever brought me to the hospital for..." Alsie mumbled, her tone nonchalant though the way she squeezed her brother's hand belied it. She gazed down at her daughter. "...Jemma's my little miracle. James and I were actually going to use donated ovum to...we'd actually done so with my second pregnancy, yet..." She swallowed, her lip trembling, yet she continued. Still gazing at her daughter so she didn't have to see her brother's face. "Anyway, when I went in for a pre-procedural check-up, the test showed I was already pregnant...it...the odds for that itself were..."

Spencer stared at his sister, his face lit with concern and fear. Though he heard her talking about Jemma, he barely registered it. Instead he thought about the more serious symptom he'd listed - cardiovascular issues. He squeezed Alsie's hand tighter. "Alsie...please tell me your medical doctor knows about this. You could have serious undetected heart problems if..."

Alsie bit her lip and glanced up tentatively at Spencer. "...the fertility doctor I used knows, it's how I found out, but I didn't share it with any others..."

"Alsie! You haven't told your doctor?! You..." Spencer's voice rose, his emotion a mix of concern, bewilderment, and anger. The latter grew stronger when he heard Alsie mumble about it not being an issue, since her doctor already tested her heart regularly. "That's not the issue...you have a greater risk at developing heart problems, and if your doctor doesn't know that...you could...you..."

"It...I..." Alsie shrunk away a tad, biting her lip until it hurt. Her eyes trailed to her left arm, beneath the shirt sleeve was the scar she made when she'd attempted to use her IV needle to puncture her wrist. It'd had shocked Spencer and Rossi when the latter caught her doing it. She still remembered their expressions, and seeing the horror and pain on their faces had been enough to weaken her grip on the needle. It was enough now to stop her from retorting that she'd never wanted to live much longer than she already had.

Spencer's eyes blurred, the twisting of his stomach and his twin-connection to Alsie telling him what she was thinking without her saying it. He squeezed his sister's hand and cradled her cheek so Alsie couldn't avoid looking up at him. "Please. You have so much reason to take care of yourself. To live. Jemma for one. You were all she'd talk about for weeks. And...you still have to meet mom." He let go of Alsie's hand and cradled the other side of her face when she tried to turn away.

Before he realized his mistake, Alsie lunged at him, and pinned him down on the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

**And Carried Me Away  
Chapter 10:  
**  
Spencer hissed in pain as he hit the floor, his elbows taking most of the impact. Though it stopped his head from hitting the floor, his left elbow hit the floor in just the right spot for the impact to be excruciating. He grimaced and cursed, distracted by the pain just long enough for Alsie to straddle him. Feeling her weight on top of him, his cheeks immediately flushed, his eyes widening and locking on Alsie. "Al..."

His sister's burnt sienna eyes stared down at him, familiar yet the gleam in them wasn't. It was cold, calculating. Not at all like Alsie, nor like her alter Ana. He swallowed, wondering if he'd triggered Emmie and thinking up how he could de-escalate things so Alsie could regain control.

"Um, Al...Emmie? I'm not a threat to Alsie. All right?" Spencer spoke softly, not moving anything but his eyes and lips. He glanced towards the bed, feeling relieved that Jemma was still sleeping. "I'm not going to do anything, Emmie. Alsie is safe, she is safe."

"...hm..heh." His sister smirked, her eyes narrowing. An uneasy feeling welled up in Spencer's gut, fighting against his certainty. It wasn't until Alsie's hand was wrapped around his throat that he realized it might not be Emmie staring down at him.

"A..." Spencer instinctively grabbed for the hand at his throat, alarmed though its owner hadn't started squeezing yet. She just held it there, threateningly.

"I thought you said you wouldn't move." His sister chided, leering down at him. Her thin lips pulled into a wry smile. It was evident, based on the tone, that this personality was testing him and his word.

Spencer paused, confused and fearful. His hand stopped midway on its way to grabbing the hand around his throat. He blinked, his brain whirling as he thought of who this alter was. Not Emmie, not Ana, certainly not Alsie herself. "I...Leigh? Are you Leigh?"

"Hm." The thin lips twitched, and a dry chuckle escaped them. "Yes. I am. And you...are a liar." Leigh glanced at Spencer's hand, her own still at his neck. Her lips twitched again as Spencer dropped his hand back to the floor.

"No. I'm not. I'm not a liar. You can trust me. I won't...I won't move." Spencer replied, his heart thumping. He tensed as Leigh tightened her grip slightly around his neck, not enough to be dangerous but enough that he questioned his resolve. If Leigh tightened her grip any further, he knew he'd break his promise and grab her arm. He also knew, going by the sinking feeling in his gut, that doing so would make things much worse. "Leigh, I...Let me talk to Alsie. Please. I'm not a threat. I..."

"Of course not. You're terrified." Leigh scoffed, her eyes recognizing the fear in Spencer's eyes. She frowned, removing her hand from his throat. "...you're nothing like James. Or Peter." Leigh muttered, shifting herself so that she was sitting on Spencer's stomach, her legs still straddling him.

"Wh..." Spencer took in a breath, relieved that Leigh hadn't decided to test his resolve. It wasn't himself getting hurt that had frightened him, but rather concern for Jemma's safety. As well as a reluctance to hurt Alsie. He took another deep breath, Leigh's mumble echoing in his thoughts. His eyes widened. "...What?"

Leigh stared down at Spencer, not bothering to respond to the single word question.

"You...James? Did you...do this to James? You..." Spencer asked, his brain running through a gauntlet of implications and likelihoods dependent on Leigh's answer. He didn't know much about James, but he couldn't imagine the older man to allow Leigh to choke him with impunity. Or to threaten him. Both which could only have meant terrible things for Alsie, things she may not remember.

"...heh. Don't worry." Leigh mumbled, touching Spencer's cheek. "He didn't mind it. At least, not enough that he'd hurt Alsie. Though..." She paused, moving a few stray strands of hair from Spencer's face. "...that has as much to do with his fear of Emmie." Another pause. "She broke his wrist once. And his fingers a few other times. Despite that, he just kept coming back. Almost like it was a sort of game. Or competition. Or maybe he just liked that Ana always appeared afterward."

"Leigh..." Spencer interrupted, not wanting to hear anything more especially not about what went on between Ana and James. "I..."

"Do you want Ana?"

"No. No." Spencer shook his head, grimacing at the thought and implication. "No. Leigh, I...I want to talk to Alsie. I need to talk to Alsie. About taking Jemma out for icecream and to the park today. She's been looking forward to today, and spending time together with her mom. Please."

"A...um. Hm." Leigh mulled over Spencer's words, her piercing eyes staring down at him. She licked her lip, considering him. Before she could say anything in response, the sound of the bed creaking drew their attention.

"Mahma? Unc' 'encer?" Jemma mumbled, staring down at the two, a loud and adorable yawn escaping her mouth. "Mah...awh. Icce ice...wan' icce c'eam."

"Jemma, hey." Spencer smiled at his niece, hiding his concern about her mother as he started signing. His eyes flitted to Alsie's face, hoping that seeing Jemma awake would trigger Leigh to switch back to Alsie. His stomach somersaulted when he saw his sister's face, the look in her eyes. "...Jem, why don't you go find auntie Joy?" Spencer signed his question, his gaze locked on his sister except for a few brief glances at Jemma to make sure his niece understood him. "Your cousin Kai would love to play with you."

"Buht..." Jemma pouted, almost whining when her uncle repeated his request. The expression on his face stopped her - and she crawled of the bed and toddled into the hallway, searching for her auntie Joy.

She completely missed the way Spencer suddenly grabbed her mother's hands, and the serious glare he gave his sister.

"Leigh." Spencer scowled at his sister, searching her face at the same moment he pushed her off of him. He squeezed her hands, his stomach twisting. The coldness - the loathing he saw in his sister's eyes as her alter Leigh stared at Jemma, horrified him. It had sent a chill through him. "...I need you to let me speak to Alsie. Leigh..."

Leigh simply glowered at him, attempting to wrest her hands out of his. His grip, however, was too firm.

"Leigh."

0

Prison:

"All right. Thank you." Hotch said to one of the correctional officers as he entered the next room. His expression remained stoic even as William Reid noticed him and approached. The door shut behind him.

"Agent Hotchner...I..."

Hotch shook his head. "I understand your reason for wanting to talk with James, Mr. Reid. You needed to know about his relationship with Alsie. About..." The agent paused, deciding to move on to his next sentence. "It doesn't surprise me. What does surprise me is how you convinced the warden to let you."

He didn't elaborate, though the other man understood what he meant. Pretending to be representing James as a lawyer just to get to question him was dangerous. If the prison or law board found out, it was likely to have ramifications for William.

William Reid simply gave Hotch a look that said that he didn't and wouldn't regret his decision despite whatever consequence. It was an expression Hotch quickly and quietly profiled, meshing it with what else he realized about the man over the past couple of months. How doting and protective he was of his daughter.

"...Alsie asked you to visit him." Hotch stated, not needing nor looking for a response. Instead he glanced around the room, his expression shifting a bit. It was slight surprise and slight confusion. "Where's James? Didn't you manage to convince him to agree to answering my questions?"

"Yes. He just needed a bathroom break. The guard should be bringing him back soon." William replied, his thoughts on James. He grimaced and sighed, irritated. "...just so you know, James agreed to this interview only if I sit in as his lawyer."

"But...that..." Hotch started to reply, only to be cut off by the sound of the prison door opening.

"...oh." James smirked as he entered the room, his attention shifting from the guard escorting him to the agent. His eyes gleamed as he recognized Hotch. "Hello. I didn't think you'd get here this quick."

"James, if you'd sit so we can start..." Hotch replied. His eyes narrowed as he noticed James shake his head while smirking.

"I want something first. Then I'll answer whatever you ask." James demanded, his dark eyes lingering on the agent's face. He practically ignored William, though the man studied him curiously. "...Deal? No deal?"

"This isn't a game, James." Hotch said, irritated by the thirty-six year old's smirk.

"...No. It's not." James replied after mulling silently a moment. He moved towards the table to sit, his foot hitting the leg of the table on the way. "...uck!"

"James, are you..."

"...I'm fine." James spat, sitting down quickly after recovering. He scowled at the two men, his glare especially livid when alighted on William.

Hotch paused before sitting down himself, not from hesitance but from curiosity. His profiler eyes hadn't missed the glare the younger man gave William. It was different than the one James gave him. The one he received was simply anger while the one William had received was more of a warning. Or an unspoken demand. More baffling was the curious and concerned look William returned.

The unit chief made note of both, then sat down. "All right. First..."

"...I want to see my daughter." James interrupted, glancing at his hands before shifting his gaze to Hotch. "I want to see Jemma."

0

Elsewhere:

The first thing Melissa Joyce noticed was the damp scent emanating from somewhere towards her right. It slowly expanded throughout the room but it was stronger in that direction. She swallowed, noticing then how dry her lips were; though she could smell a damp scent entering the room, the room itself felt so dry. Her head pounded, and she instinctively reached out to search for her walking stick.

She froze when a metallic rattling sound filled her ears and her reach was hindered by something wrapped around her wrists.

"No. No. Please no." She gasped, her lips trembling as she tried to wake herself up. It felt so real, this nightmare, so like the others she'd suffered through. Yet...her nightmares never had such a stench in them and the room was usually cold. And she could see in them...

Melissa trembled, becoming more worried the longer her blindness remained - evidence that it wasn't a nightmare. She was, somehow, trapped again with the psycho. He must've gotten out and come to finish her. He was supposed to be in prison for life, but somehow he'd to have escaped or...

"Where are you? Please...just let me go. Please!" She cried, and reflectively moved her arms what little way she could to block her stomach. The sound of a scuffling foot or bag could be heard across the room. "Please just let us go..."

The scuffling stopped, replaced by the sound of a sure footstep approaching. She realized the truth from the stranger's step even before he spoke, the voice not the same one as the man's who assaulted her in Western New York.

"...us?" The unknown voice asked, and Melissa tried to cover her stomach even more protectively. Her heart thumped terribly beneath her ribcage, fear enveloping her more firmly than before. "Us?"

The man repeated, what he was doing unknown to Melissa, though she sensed he was staring at her closely. She tried to squirm away, an useless endeavor because of the chains binding her ankles as well as her arms.

"Please..." She cried as strong, furious arms pulled hers away from her abdomen. "Don't...don't hurt..."

"...you..." The man growled, his glare on the just noticeable baby bump.


	11. Chapter 11

**And Carried Me Away  
Chapter 11: **

Prison:

"I want to see my daughter. I want to see Jemma."

Hotch watched James, as the younger man repeated the demand. He eyed him wordlessly, not surprised by the request since it'd been in the back of his mind as a possible power-play James might use. There'd also been the slight hope that the thirty-six year old would request to see Jemma out of paternal feelings. Studying James' expression, Hotch was unsure which was the reason for his demand.

"Jemma's not coming to visit you in prison." William Reid replied before Hotch could, his eyes searching James'. His professional lawyer face slipped, changing swiftly to a protective father and grandfather one. "I won't allow it. Elsie wouldn't either."

"...Jemma's too young for normal visitation, James." Hotch concurred, his thoughts concerned by how being brought to the prison to visit her father would affect Jemma.

"Then arrange a visit outside of here. At the FBI headquarters, keep me chained or whatever." James said, his jaw tightening as he noted Hotch already shaking his head. "I want to see her. I'm her father. I deserve to..."

"Perhaps you should've thought of that before you attacked those women. Or before you gave up your right to a trial and pled guilty on all accounts while refusing any plea deal or parole just to hurt your father." Hotch replied, the coldness of his words coming from a mix of anger at what James had done and at how James kept trying to hurt Rossi. As well as a need to not accept the geniunity of James' demand blindly just because he wanted it to be so.

"I didn..." James scowled, tensing. "I thought she was dead. If I had any idea Jemma was alive, I..."

Hotch cocked an eyebrow, pausing long enough to study James' expression. He wanted to believe what he read in the younger man's body language. In his tone of voice. He glanced toward William Reid. One glance at the man's face and it was obvious he was reluctant to allow James any benefit of the doubt. Though he did note an empathetic grimace in the lawyer's expression when James mentioned thinking Jemma was dead.

It was, Hotch realized with a jolt, the one thing that William Reid and James Rossi had in common. Both fathers had at one point been convinced their daughters were dead.

"No." William shook his head, not even making an attempt to pretend to advocate for James. He didn't care if he angered the younger man or ruined the FBI's chance for questioning James. His granddaughter was not going to be brought to the prison to visit her father. Nor was he willing to allow James to visit Jemma off prison grounds. It didn't matter how much their circumstances were alike. It didn't matter that James had thought Jemma was dead, like William had with Alsie.

He understood the anger, the helplessness James may have felt, but that did not excuse the younger man's actions. Nothing could condone the rapes and mutilations James was responsible for, nothing could excuse any man - especially one who was a father to a daughter - for raping women.

And as he considered the possibility that James may have attempted the same with Alsie, William couldn't help feeling particularly unsympathetic. Whether James raped Alsie directly or maybe had taken advantage of his daughter's illness to do as he wished, William couldn't help his anger. He felt it, despite that Alsie seemed to still trust James, to care about the man enough that she asked William to show him Jemma's photograph.

 _-"Please...could you show James..."-_

Alsie's request echoed suddenly in William's thoughts, reminding him not only why he'd visited earlier but also what his daughter had given him. After James' unexpected answers had flustered him, he'd forgotten about the photo.

"I deserve to see my..." James repeated, scowling. His chestnut eyes glaring at one man then the other.

"Here." William said, unconsciously deciding on a compromise by holding out Jemma's photo for the younger man to take. More to keep his promise to his daughter, than actually caring what James' felt. "Elsie asked that I show you that. I forgot to earlier."

James took the photo, his hand shaking as he did so. He stared at the three-year-old's smile. It was wide and exuberant. Innocent. He lingered on the smile, not noticing the look Hotch flashed William, nor the curiosity in either man's face as he held the photograph.

"James...?"

"...She has my eyes." James mumbled. "Her hair too...the same shade as mine. She's..." He took in a breath and handed the photo back. The word innocent repeating in his thoughts. Jemma...his daughter was so innocent, pure. Young. While he...and so many in the prison were not. "You're right, she shouldn't visit me in here. Who knows how many of these bastards in here would get off on..." James growled, his eyes narrowing as he thought. It was true anger, not at all like the sneering sort he did to upset his father or the rest of the BAU. It was more piercing than even the anger he felt when he'd revealed months back why he didn't kill his victims. "I...can I talk to Alsie instead? If I can't meet with Jemma, I want to meet with Alsie."

"...all right. If she's willing, we'll arrange it." Hotch replied, surprised enough by the request being a request not a demand, that he agreed to it. He paused while James nodded and sat back in his seat.

"Ask what you want to ask."

"First, I need to you to tell me the names of all your victims prior to those in western New York." Hotch said, noting James' pause and how the younger man's eyes grew suddenly wary. An action that suggested to Hotch that, though James had previously nearly reveled in being convicted just to spite his father, he was reluctant to risk being charged further.

"I..." James threw a quick glance at William, but averted it just as quick.

"There's a man hunting down your previous victims, torturing and assaulting them before murdering them." Hotch continued, not missing the glance though it seemed William had. "We need all of your victims' names."

"Aside from those in New York?" James mumbled and rubbed his lip, thinking. "There are only three..."

"Only three? James..."

"...That were still alive last I knew." James amended, further mumbling that he hadn't checked in on any of them for around thirteen years.

"...Did you kill them?" William asked before Hotch could, scowling at James.

"No...not deliberately. One...bled out. The other developed an infection." The thirty-six year old stared at his hands as he spoke, his brain mulling over something silently even as he answered. He unconsciously massaged his pinky. "I started using bleach after the latter one."

"What were their names?" Hotch asked, his stomach tensed. Though there always been lingering in the back of his thoughts, the possibility that James had had more victims than they'd found, hearing the younger man confirm it disturbed him. More due to how nonchalantly James spoke of the victims after mentioning they died.

"...the one who bled out, I don't know. I believe she was a prostitute, I didn't bother asking her name." James mumbled, further mentioning the name of the city he'd been in at that time. Hotch pulled slightly back at the city name, his eyes staring at James.

"...Somerfield owned property in that area. On the outskirts of the city." Hotch revealed slowly, curious. James only response was to dryly say 'yeah.' "James..."

"The other one was Tanya. She was a tutor Somerfield hired to teach the younger children at the institute. Hm..." James paused, and rubbed his pinky. "The others were...Amanda Richardson, Tiffany Dixon, and um, Sarah um...never quite got that one's last name. Her accent was difficult to understand."

Hotch listened quietly as James gave the names of his other victims, confirming the identities of the three victims the BAU had already suspected of being James'. "Are those all your victims?"

"Aside from those in New York? Yeah." James' chestnut eyes shifted from Hotch's face, and darted briefly at William before returning to staring at his hands.

"You're sure? These women were the only ones you attacked? There weren't any others...? Ones you wanted to attack, that perhaps you attempted to assault but...didn't go through with it?"

James glowered at Hotch, but said nothing.

A brief silence filled the room as the unit chief observed James and analyzed his micro-expressions. Understanding came to Hotch as he realized what James' glances and fidgeting had actually meant. The thirty-three year old wasn't worried about being charged further, but about William Reid's presence. Especially as Hotch kept questioning about James' victims. His concern focused on the younger man's potential victims.

 _'Alsie...'_ Hotch let the unspoken admittance sink in. It hadn't been the petite brunette that he'd had in mind when he prompted James. He had simply been seeking a possible connection between James and Olivia Sutters, the one victim of their copycat unsub that wasn't previously James' victim.

William Reid, finally catching James' glances towards him and connecting them to the way Hotch kept asking the younger man divulge his victims' names, stiffened in anger. His eyes narrowed, his brain coming to the same conclusion Hotch's had. Alsie may not have met the same fate as James' other victims, but the thirty-six year old had sought her out to be a victim.

"You...you..." William growled, nearly ready to lunge at James before Hotch stopped him.

"Mr. Reid..." Hotch spoke, his tone warning enough. He was about to tell the other man to leave the room before he remembered William was, as far as the prison was concerned, James' lawyer. If William was kicked out by him it would clearly alert the prison staff to the lie. Though if James kicked William out, that would be a different story.

Hotch opened his mouth to continue his questioning where he left off, but then closed it. A question whirled in his thoughts, a question raised by James' behavior, specifically how the man, though wary about William's presence, didn't demand the lawyer to leave. It was, since William had agreed to act as James' lawyer, James' right to demand. Yet...

Hotch knit his brow, confused and suspicious by the absence of James demanding William to leave. It was the sort of thing he expected of the thirty-six year old, a power-play to get under the other man's skin.

He eyed William Reid, then shifted to James, studying both men carefully. The former was fuming and leering at the latter, who simply refused to respond. It wasn't that James was just simply not saying things that could agitate William, but rather almost as though James was deliberately trying to avoid it. Seeing the thirty-six year old making an effort not to anger someone was strange. Enough that Hotch made a note to talk to William alone later, demanding to know what the two had talked about before Hotch arrived.

"You...you hurt her? After all that you blathered about earlier, you actually did..." William seethed, glaring at James.

"No." James tensed, his eyes narrowing. His own anger bubbling in response to the lawyer's. "No. I didn't."

"James, if you lie you won't get to talk to Alsie. Nor see Jemma." Hotch elucidated, in an effort to curtail the desire to attack the younger man he read in William's face.

"I...I'm telling the truth. I did not hurt Alsie." James growled, pausing a moment. "Yes, all right. I intended to. I saw her outside a bar and approached her intending to..." He took in a deep, angry breath. "But...you want to know what happened? Truthfully?"

"Yes, James." Hotch replied, keeping his face stoic. While William clenched his jaw and fist, readying himself to lunge at the younger man.

"Alsie drugged me. Well, Emmie did. Drugged and tied me up. Given, it was in self-defense. But I didn't hurt her. She..." James scowled, lips puckered in rage. "Now, aside from her breaking my finger at the time, I didn't mind at all what she...what Ana did while I was bound. It actually intrigued me. Such a petite thing and she could fight back. Pretty smartly too. Fearless even. That never happened before. I was intrigued." James made a shrugging gesture with his hands. "I found I liked being intrigued, grew fond of her even. Especially after discovering our childhoods were similar. Both of us raised and victimized by pedophiles, both abandoned mid-childhood by our 'families.' And, now, apparently..." He gave a derisive breathy laugh, glancing at William. "So I'm told, we both are victims of Connell-Somerfield's scheme. I honestly thought that was too much similarity - both of us raised by the wrong family? Hah. I even told her as much when she confided that she thought she was a changeling or whatever. That she was raised by the wrong family and that she thought she met her real brother. I told her that was just too - too wishful. Bizarre. It..." James took a breath, missing the shift in both of the older men's expressions. "It was unlikely. Impossible."

Hotch's shift was barely noticeable, but William's was clear. His anger shifted to surprise, then back to anger, and then to reluctant realization. Surprised by the revelation, he had almost snapped at James, ready to blame him for Alsie not revealing her suspicions to Spencer when they met as adults. However, James was right that both of them being switched, on top of what else they had in common, was improbable. It was reasonable to have doubted Alsie's suspicion.

"James..."

"...look, I'll go into detail if you like. Divulge everything. But I never hurt Alsie. I may have wanted to at first, but...I grew intrigued - fond even - of her."

"James, according to reports, Ana was the one conscious when..."

James made a dismissive hand gesture. "Like I mentioned to Wil...Mr. Reid here before you came." He paused briefly, William's name intriguing him. He shrugged it off though. "I simply lied back and let Ana do whatever she wanted. Whenever she wanted. I..."

"That's...I don't want to...hear any more..." William muttered, shaking his head. Not sure if he should believe James or not. His eyes flitted towards Hotch, hoping to see something in his expression to tell him what to believe.

"...I didn't hurt Alsie. Even if I hadn't grown fond of her. If I tried to, do anything, Emmie would've broken every bone in my body. Leigh would've been even worse. Probably would've castrated me, at least."

"James, that's all right." Hotch interrupted after silently glancing at William, reading the man's discomfort in his face and body language.


	12. Chapter 12

**And Carried Me Away  
Chapter 12:**

"James, that's all right." Hotch interrupted after silently glancing at William, reading the man's discomfort in his face and body language.

Not that he needed to, to understand. If he was in William's position, hearing such things about his daughter he would act the same. Even if it wasn't from a convicted rapist. Though, Hotch noted uneasily, that though what James had said could easily have been a lie to inflame William, James hadn't shown any hints of deception. The thirty-six year old hadn't said those things simple to mess with either of them.

"We don't need to talk anymore about Alsie's and yours relationship. I just need to know if there are any other potential targets this unsub we're tracking could have. He's going after the women you assaulted." Hotch elucidated, leading the conversation away from the rant James had gone into. "I especially want to know if you know a woman by the name of Olivia Sutters. She was killed by this unsub, same as the three women you mentioned earlier."

"All of them...?" James shook his head slowly in a no gesture, though this expressed more disbelief rather than emotion. "Sutters? Sutters...Olivia." He mumbled the name repeatedly, considering it. It wasn't a name he recognized - definitely not one of his victims - yet it felt familiar. Like he'd seem it before, the family name at least.

 _-"Hey! KJ, lookie at what I found." A sandy blond haired boy held up his hand and motioned for him. "It was in Somerfield's study."_

 _"...I'm trying to sleep, go away." James hissed, rolling over in bed and covering his head with his blanket. He listened for the other boy's footsteps, to know when he'd gone. He grumbled when the steps stopped just at the room door._

 _"Fine. I'll just turn the light off and..."_

 _"No!" James shot up, his heart pounding in his thirteen year old chest. His eyes wide, he stared at the other boy terrified of the fingers nearing the light switch. The darkness and its threat terrified him. "I'll look at it, all right?"_

 _"I knew you would." The other boy grinned, relishing in seeing James sit up in bed, waiting. The grin grew wider when James realized that the boy wasn't going to come to him, but was going to force James out of bed. He watched James mumble a few swears before leaving the bed and approaching._

 _"What is it, anyway?" James asked, grimacing when the boy held out a pile of newspaper clippings. He took them while grumbling about how old they looked - if the boy wanted to look through articles, couldn't they be recent? Or hell, have it be from an adult mag and actually be the full issue. Seriously, that would be worth a gander._

 _"Articles about murder. Serial murder." The boy grinned, thrilled by his gruesome discovery. "And local at that. Apparently there was a bunch of women attacked and killed in the area over ten years ago. Their eyes were mutilated and..."_

 _James glanced over the articles, becoming interested in them the more the other boy blathered on, his excitement catching. -_

x

"...James?" Hotch stared at the younger man, curious and concerned when James seemed to zone out.

"Um?" James rubbed his chin and lips, delving on his recollection. His gaze shot up at Hotch, the man repeating his name.

"Do you know Olivia Sutters? Have you..."

James shook his head, thinking and staring at the other man though his brain was focused on his memory. "...there were newspaper articles. Bryce, another boy at the institute took them from Somerfield's study. One mentioned that name - Sutters. Felicia Sutters. A young mother, raped and killed."

"An article? James, when did you see..."

"I was thirteen. That article was from the late seventies. There were others from around the same time and some from the eighties. Somerfield had a lot of them, all about similar crimes. Like a collection." James chewed on his lip, and rubbed his hands together. His eyebrows scrunched up as he thought of the name hand written in the book the unknown inmate had given him. "...one of the articles mentioned the FBI. Said an agent was looking into an abduction of a woman like the victims in the other articles."

Hotch's interest piqued at James' mumbling, and he temporarily set aside asking about Olivia Sutters or the other woman the other man mentioned, Felicia Sutters. If Somerfield had had an article about the FBI, perhaps it could shed light on Somerfield's reason for taking Rossi's son. "James, the FBI agent mentioned by the article, was it Ros..."

"No." James shook his head, his chestnut eyes catching Hotch's. His brow creased in thought, before he continued. "Gideon."

"What?" Hotch asked, surprise flashing in his eyes. He glared at James closely, determined to know if the other man was telling the truth or not. The younger man seemed oblivious to the older's reaction, being too focused on his thoughts.

"The agent mentioned in the article, the one looking into the abduction..." James paused, confused by Hotch's reaction once he noticed it. "...was called Gideon."

0

Local Precinct:

Cam grimaced, arms folded as she watched Catherine Joyce leave. Midway through their questioning, the woman had clammed up and refused to answer anything further. It irked her, especially when she noticed signs that the woman was hiding something. That there was something either about the possible unsub or Melissa that Catherine refused to say.

"Fitzgerald." Tara said, standing in front of the younger agent.

"...she's hiding something."

"I know. I've already called Garcia to ask if she can find out what it could be. Maybe there's something on the restaurant's security tape we missed." Tara replied, her own arms crossed as she thought about the surveillance camera. The booth where the Joyces had been sitting, had been just out of view of that camera. Same with the camera at the back door.

"That server...he's probably the unsub. Or one of the other employees is." Cam said, slowly dropping her arms. "Someone who knew there was a blind-spot the cameras couldn't catch or who could change the position of the cameras undetected."

"It could be a regular customer. Or the owner. Or maybe the unsub just got lucky." Tara replied, though she didn't find the latter supposition likely. "We should see if the others have found anything."

Cam nodded. Before either could say anything further, the police detective in charge of the local investigation approached. Behind him was an older woman, with graying burgundy hair wrapped in a weathered scarf and a matching outfit.

"Agents? This is Olivia Sutter's aunt, Patricia Mae Mathers. She identified the body." The police detective spoke, his posture formal while his vocal tone betrayed just how uncomfortable he was. It was clear he either had never handled dealing with the next of kin in a murder investigation before or he was still getting used to it.

"Mrs. Mathers, I'm so sorry for..." Tara spoke, only for her offer of condolence to be interrupted.

"I know who did it." Patricia Mae blurted, her tone assertive and without any hesitance. "And the bastard will not get away with it. Not this time."

"Mrs. Mathers, you know who killed your niece?" Tara's eyes widened slightly, though she studied the woman closely. It was more probable that the woman only thought she knew who it was, rather than actually knowing. There was, of course, the possibility that this woman would repeat what some of the media was saying - that it was James.

"I sure do. The same bastard who did what he did to her mother." The woman replied, her tone hateful but it was tempered by the life-weary gleam in her eyes. It was obvious she'd gone through much that'd left its mark.

"Her mother?" Cam asked, folding her arms loosely across her chest, a sliver of confusion in her tone. Her heterochromatic eyes narrowed slightly, and she glanced at Tara briefly before shifting back to Patricia. "...Didn't her mother die thirty-seven years ago? It was in the file Garcia assembled when trying to find a connection to the other victims."

"Yes. And the monster went after Olivia because he couldn't have my sister." Patricia replied, her posture rigid - almost haughty - and her tone self-certain. Her words were spoken with such conviction that neither agent believed her to be fabricating, at the very least the woman believed her own words.

Yet it baffled them. This unsub was copying James' crimes, attacking James' victims.

"Mrs. Mathers, I..."

"Here. Read this." The woman interrupted Tara, thrusting a newspaper article at the agent. It was yellowed with age and wrinkled slightly, with a bit of wear around the edges. Patricia Mathers had obviously kept it for some time. "This'll prove I'm right."

Tara took the proffered paper, and glanced at the headline from politeness and curiosity. Her eyes widened as she read it and continued through the first few paragraphs. Noticing Tara's surprise, Cam read the article too, her lips parting slightly. She blinked, and then furrowed her brow before rereading it aloud.

"'A local young mother assaulted...left for dead...her eyes gouged and..." Cam mumbled, thrown and intrigued by the similarities of that case to James' crimes. Yet neither rape nor enucleation themselves were unique to any one unsub.

Tara, however, stared at one line in particular. A line that the younger agent could be forgiven not to have caught, not being part of the original investigation into James. _'...the unsub bleached his victims eye-sockets after enucleating them precisely with a scalpel.'_

Tara took in a breath before ushering Patricia Mathers towards a more private room, and mentioning that they'll be right with her to take her statement and ask questions.

"Lewis? What...?" Cam started to say, understanding that she'd missed something, something the older agent hadn't.

"It's the exact same M.O., Fitzgerald" Tara replied, handing the article to Cam. "Exactly the same as James'."

"What? But that's impossible, James wasn't even born when this victim was assaulted and murdered. It's..." Cam paused, confused even as she digested the information. "Does this mean that James himself chose to copycat another unsub's crimes? How? Garcia would've found this case if it was in a database, yet...how could James have known about a case from before he was born?"

"...I don't know. But..." Tara answered, glowering at the article. "I bet there's someone who does. And he's currently sitting in prison on felony child trafficking and illegal experimentation charges."

"...Morland Somerfield." Cam seethed, taking just a moment to realize who Tara meant. Crossing her arms, she narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw.

0

 **End of Chapter.**

 **A/N: Damn, I already made it to chapter twelve and it's still technically the first case of this fic (not counting Cam's mom), but I guess it's not surprising since I filled each chapter with so much non-case yet plot centered stuff. Which has to do with me not actually having created a character identity for the unsub when I started this case, now I have a basic idea.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: When I tried uploading before, chapter 12 I think, it gave me an error message, but I think it still updated. But I don't think it counted for the alerts or whatnot. So you may want to check out the previous chapter (chapter 12), just in case.**

* * *

And Carried Me Away  
Chapter 13:

Elsewhere:

"Please. Let us go." Melissa cried, covering her abdomen the best she could. She even tried fighting against the man who abducted her when he tore her arms away, his eyes glaring her stomach.

"...you're pregnant." He spoke coldly, his tone ice and his grip on the woman's wrists was biting. His nails dug into her flesh unconsciously, his focus and anger set on her abdomen. "You..."

Melissa's lips trembled, her heart thumping wildly. "Please...I'll do whatever. Just don't..."

The man merely glared at Melissa coldly, squeezing his fingers around her wrists tighter. His jaw set firm and his scowl rigid, he narrowed his eyes to slits. Not that his captive noticed. She did notice when he released his grip and stalked off a few feet, his footfalls heavy with anger.

She further heard the near unintelligibly mutters he made as he paced. Taking in a sharp, angry breath, he stopped pacing and turned toward Melissa.

"...you ain't got a boyfriend. You..." He mumbled, picking up an needle thin and sharp blade. His face livid and teeth clenched tightly he studied Melissa. "Not since...hheh." He made a strange sound, between a laugh and growl, as though figuring something out. "Is...is the father..."

"Please, please..." Melissa swallowed and repeated her plea.

The man just gave a breathy and wry laugh. Though Melissa couldn't see it, she could hear his twisted exuberance in his laugh.

"Seriously. You..." He licked his lip, putting down the blade he held.

0

Quantico:

Rossi closed the file he held and massaged his forehead, his curiosity about James' copycat rearing its head. Though that wasn't the only reason he was outside Garcia's computer room door. He needed more info on Linnet and the woman the man claimed was Cam's mother. He needed all he could find before heading to interview Linnet.

The senior agent knocked on the door, waiting just a few moments before opening it. "Garcia? I need you to do something, if you're not too busy..." Rossi said as he entered, his dark eyes trying to avoid glancing at the tech analyst's monitors. The last thing he could deal with was seeing information on James, especially if it linked his son to more victims.

"Sir! What is it you need?" Garcia piped after a paused, her chirpy tone forced. She seemed distressed.

"...Penelope? What's wrong? What is it?" Rossi asked before he could stop himself, his concern etched in his scrunched brow.

"I..." Garcia hesitated, covering her mouth. Her eyes wide from worry and horror. She seemed frozen, lost even, caught between keeping quiet and saying something horrible.

"Pen..." Rossi started to speak, to reassure the woman that she didn't have to say anything if it had to do with the copycat. The next moment the tech analyst interrupted, having decided on something.

"I...I was just searching through files on Melissa Joyce. To see what her mom was hiding, just in case it could lead to the unsub. I..." Garcia swallowed, and took a deep breath, her wide and caring gaze on the senior agent. "...she's...Melissa's...pregnant."

"Shit. That's..." Rossi cursed, his stomach twisting as he thought of what the unsub did to his victims, and felt sick. It was bad enough about the women being killed, but the possibility of an unborn child...

"Rossi, I..." Garcia started to speak, her voice catching. The look of horror and disgust and fear more intense than what Rossi expected. He paused, expecting the horror and concern, but not the...distress in the bubbly woman's eyes.

"What is it? Wha..." Rossi approached, wondering at the intensity of Garcia's distress. It was more than what was usual with the woman, more than any other time when a pregnant victim was a target of an unsub. It was almost...personal.

Rossi blanched, his eyes widening as an idea occurred to him. His knotted stomach knotting further, tensed by an idea that he'd never considered. "Garcia...how...how far along...is Melissa Joyce?"

"A...a little over sixteen weeks...I...sir..."

Rossi took a step back, feeling sick. His brain focused on how long it'd been since what happened in western New York. With James. It'd been around four months, give or take a few days. He shook his head, a tumult of various emotions engulfing him.

The ring of Garcia's phone cut through before either could say more.

0

 _-Flashback: 1998-_

 _"...igh...No, that's not..." The man mumbled, grimacing slightly. "...Alsie?"_

 _She blinked open her eyes, shaking her head to clear it, while listening to the man's voice. Her head felt heavy, her sienna brown eyes opening to a dimly lit room. She took a deep breath. The smell of paper, like that from old books, filled her nostrils._

 _"Wha...where...? Ugh." She wiped her eyes and sat up, realizing only as she did so that she was on a sofa. It was a flowery one, soft and cushiony, like the one in her study at home. She realized, after a moment, that it was the one in her study. Her eyes widened and she stared at the man who'd addressed her. "Why...why are we here? Weren't we in the guest pallor? When did we get here?"_

 _"...it's nothing to fret over." The man replied, the corners of his lips twitching. He quietly put something, a vial of some sort, in his shirt pocket. "You just had a headache, so I brought you up here and gave you some of your medicine. You've been resting awhile."_

 _"Oh. All right." Alsie mumbled, laying her head back down on the pillow beside the sofa armrest. She took in a deep breath, before suddenly sneezing. Her heaviness of her head worsened, her sinuses feeling dammed up. "...shit. Did you spill one of granny's fragrances or potpourri or something?"_

 _The man shook his head, carefully eyeing the 16 year old. Though there was actually only a year or so age difference between them, appearance-wise, the gap seemed to be longer. The fact that Alsie was still less than 5 feet and only recently started to develop secondary sexual characteristics intensified the apparent, visual, age difference._

 _Alsie massaged her sinuses and grumbled, pushing her hair from her face. Her scars free to the man's view._

 _"...why don't you get this fixed?" The man gestured towards the scaring, his fingers just centimeters above touching her skin. "Mrs. Schmidt has a fortune, you could easily get plastic surgery to fix it."_

 _Alsie quickly covered her scar with her hand, forcing the man's hand away. Her sienna brown eyes glared at him even as they watered, her cheeks blanching. "...no. Never." She ghosted her fingers over her scar, her eyes directed toward the man but her thoughts elsewhere. "Never."_

x

"...ver..."

Spencer listened to Alsie's mumbles as he laid her down on the bed. He had managed, after Jemma left and after a short struggle against Leigh, to inject the petite woman with the tranquilizer that her doctor had prescribed. He worried his lips with his teeth, feeling helpless and wrong for having to drug Alsie - the tranquilizer was a last resort, prescribed as a countermeasure whenever Emmie gained control and couldn't be stopped.

He hated having to use it on his sister, especially when it was his foolishness that had triggered her shift to Leigh and then again to Emmie. If he had only avoided touching Alsie's face or at least didn't let go of her hand, he could've avoided her shift to Leigh.

His eyes gazed down at his sister watching her breathe, his own chest starting to feel heavy. Looking at her now, in a medicated slumber, she seemed fragile and innocent. Her closed eyes no longer held the loathing that had frightened him into grabbing her wrists. It'd been instinctual, once he saw the glare Leigh gave Jemma, a glare filled with hatred and malice. He had immediately reacted to protect his niece, his brain sensing that the three-tear-old was in danger from Leigh.

It was only now, as he watched his sister sleep, that the full horror of the incident dawned on him. Leigh hated Jemma. Alsie's alter hated her daughter, loathed the toddler enough to be potentially violent. Spencer swallowed back the nausea bubbling in his stomach, wishing for what he'd seen to be a dream.

"...shit." Spencer covered his face, struggling not to be overwhelmed and trying to hold back the tears threatening his eyes.

Alsie loved Jemma, just hearing how his sister talked about her daughter proved that, yet Leigh detested the toddler. It was apparent that that alter couldn't be trusted around Jemma. How was he going to tell Alsie that? How was he going to be able to explain to Alsie that though he knew she loved Jemma and would be a great mom, he didn't think it wise to let Jemma stay with her? At least not alone. Not until her D.I.D was fully under control.

"...Pete..." Alsie mumbled, her eyes still closed and brain still unconscious from the tranquilizer. Spencer gazed down at her, not moving until a knock at the bedroom door drew his attention.

"Hey, I thought we were going to have lunch, and then bring Kai and Jemma to the park?" Joy asked, her brow furrowed seeing Alsie lying in bed. Her eyes widened when Spencer frowned sadly and shook his head. "What...?"

"Alsie...can't go. Not yet. Probably not today." Spencer replied, his sad glance at Alsie not missed by Joy. He sighed, the next moment becoming alarmed, his eyes widened. "Where's Jemma and Kai? Who's watching..."

"Don't worry. My husband Shawn came over a few minutes ago, he's watching them both." Joy paused, a bit curious and concerned. "Um, is Alsie okay? Did..."

"She's fine. Just...she just needs to rest." Spencer answered, not wishing to go into what had happened. Instead he mumbled about going to check on Jemma, while allowing Alsie to rest.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I've only recently discovered that when I email my rough-draft version of my fics to myself, my email cuts out words when I hit send. So if you catch anything that looks like a word or whatever is missing, it's likely because of that. I got pissed off at my phone/email because of it, since it cut out nearly a whole sentence in one chapter. I caught it before I posted, but if I hadn't it would have made that bit confusing.

* * *

 **And Carried Me Away**  
 **Chapter 14:**

New Jersey:

Morgan grimaced, rubbing his forehead as he mentally went over what they knew so far about the copycat. His eyes read over the autopsy reports of the victims found, his gut roiling as he thought about the evilness of their current unsub. It was always bad enough when an unsub copied the crimes of past serial killers with new victims. And it was downright horrendous when an unsub sought out the victims of another unsub and re-victimized them.

But this current unsub was even worse, first choosing James to copy, and then sending that package to Rossi, to the senior agent's home. It was evil and an attack on their team.

"Morgan." JJ approached, seeking out the other agent. "I just got off the phone with Lewis and Cam. They may have found something."

"A lead?"

"Yes and no. Apparently, Olivia Sutter's aunt came in and started claiming she knew who the unsub was." JJ paused, mulling over what the other two agents had told her.

"And? Is it a legit lead?" Morgan asked, observing his fellow team member. "Who did she say it was?"

"That's the thing. She didn't have a name to give, but she claimed the unsub who killed Olivia was the same man who assaulted and left Olivia's mother for dead, thirty-six years ago."

Morgan shook his head, sighing. "That's not..."

"Lewis and Cam thought the same thing. Until Ms. Mathers showed them an article from around that time. It...it was from a small newspaper and hadn't been digitized, neither had the police record, so..." JJ grimaced, trailing off with her arms crossed as she considered her words. Morgan gave her a look, and nearly interrupted her. "...according to Lewis, what was written in that article, what that unsub did to Olivia's mom, it was exactly like what James did to his victims."

"...what?" Morgan gave JJ a look, incredulous.

"It's only a theory, but Lewis thinks that James may have gotten his MO from this earlier crime. That he may be a copycat, and that our unsub may be the person he stole the MO from."

"What?" Morgan shook his head, thrown by the information even if it was just supposition. His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought. "But...if there's no digital record and it happened before James was even a year, how did he know? How could he copy an unsolved, only locally reported crime...?"

JJ grimaced, her whole body language changing to reflect anger rather than uncertainty. "That's what convinced Lewis and Cam of this theory. The location of the crime. The assault took place less than ten miles from Somerfield's first institute, where he later kept James."

"...what? That's..." Morgan gaped then scowled. "S...that bastard's institute? He..."

"I know." JJ gritted her teeth. "Cam is going to call Garcia about looking into Somerfield's history around that time, and Lewis is getting in touch with Hotch, to see about asking James before questioning Somerfield."

0

Quantico:

 _-"Garcia, could you look something up? We may have a lead." Cam asked after the tech analyst answered the phone and greeted the younger agent.-_

"Yeah, sure. What is it you need?" Garcia replied, her tone not at all cheery. Something the young agent picked up on quickly.

 _-"...um, are you all right?" Cam asked, chewing on her lip as she put off saying what she'd called about.-_

"I'm fine. I..." Garcia answered, while glancing at Rossi who still seemed to be reeling from what she'd revealed just moments before answering Cam's call.

"...you said you may have a lead?" Rossi cut in, still shaken but managing to not let it overwhelm him. At least not at the moment. He briefly shook his head at Garcia when she'd seemed about to protest. "Cam?"

 _-"Oh! Rossi, I thought you were..." Cam started to say but trailed off mid-sentence, feeling uneasy as she recalled that the senior agent was looking into Linnet's claims. About murdering her mother.-_

"I was. I am." Rossi replied, realizing what the young agent had been about to mention. "There's not much more I can do without interviewing Linnet, which can't be done until his lawyer oks it. So, I thought I'd help a bit with the current case..."

 _-"...all right." Cam mumbled, taking in a breath. She was tempted to ask whether it was smart for the older agent to be helping on a case he was taken off of, but bit her tongue. Having Rossi back to helping on the case relieved her, the senior agent had always reassured her. "The possible lead agent Lewis and I found is connected to a case almost four decades ago. One that may not have made it into a database yet."-_

"What? But this unsub is copying Jam...how could he be connected to an old case?" Garcia blurted, her voice trailing off temporarily when she was about to mention James by name.

 _-"Um, it may be possible that James' himself copied another person's crimes. That he's also a copycat."-_

"What?! Impossible. We would've found..."

 _-"Ms. Mathers, Olivia Sutters' aunt, showed Lewis and I an article from nearly thirty-five years ago. The details in it, about what the unsub did to his victim, Olivia's mother, were identical to James' MO." Cam explained, taking a deep breath before continuing. "It seemed to be from a small, local newspaper in the area. So it's possible it hasn't been digitized yet. And..." Cam grimaced, eyes narrowing. "It was less than ten miles from one of Somerfield's institutes."-_

"What? Somerfield..." Rossi gaped, before his surprise quickly shifted to a scowl. His jaw tensed, eyes livid as he grasped Cam's revelation. It didn't take long for him to conclude that it was not a simple coincidence, that a near identical crime had taken place so close to the monstrous doctor. The doctor who had wanted to mold his son James into a sociopath, who'd tortured his son psychologically.

 _-"Yes...agent Lewis and I both think it's too much to be a coincidence. At the very least Somerfield possibly had knowledge of it, and James got it from him by chance or..."-_

"It wasn't by chance." Rossi growled. "Somerfield wanted to turn James into a criminal - a killer, and with this info you and Lewis found, it's possible the bastard wanted to mold James into a specific one."

"But if that's the case, why? And how is this new copycat connected?" Garcia interrupted, glancing at Rossi, and then the phone. "Could the copycat be the original unsub instead?"

"Unlikely. Given that this unsub showed hesitance while enucleating his victim and did so after killing her, he's not the original. It's more..." Rossi rubbed his chin, mulling over a thought to distract him from what Garcia had revealed before Cam called. "Like this unsub is a copy of a copy. He had his own M.O but then added James' and targeted his victims..."

 _-"Yeah. But...that's strange. Because Olivia Sutters' mother was the original unsub's victim, and there's no connection between her and James. Why did the unsub go after Sutters? If he'd been following the news, he'd known James was too young to be the one behind the attack thirty-five-ish years ago."-_

"That's a good question. I'm more concerned with how this new unsub knew about Olivia's mom in the first place. If it isn't in any large database, then he must have been near where it happened." Rossi paused briefly, before asking Cam where the article said the attack took place. Specifically to figure out which of Somerfield's institutes it took place near.

When Cam answered, both Rossi's and Garcia's eyes widened.

"That's...that's the one that burned down four years ago. The one James said he'd gone back to after Connell..." Garcia stammered, and her gaze shifted towards Rossi.

The senior agent pursed his lips, absorbing the information, digesting it.

0

Prison:

Hotch eyed James carefully, his gaze piercing and his jaw taut. He managed to remain stoic even though the name that James had mentioned felt like a kick to the gut. "What was the name of the agent?" He repeated his question, just to make sure he had heard correctly. "James..."

"..." The thirty-six year old didn't reply though, and instead eyed Hotch back. Though the agent's expression hadn't noticeably changed, James realized that his answer had disturbed the older man. His lip twitched, and a smug smirk briefly dressed his face. "...ah so, what's important about this FBI agent? Hm?"

"James..." Hotch clenched his jaw, but in a way that was almost imperceptible. He glowered at the younger man a few moments, reminding himself that though he wanted nothing more than to interrogate James about the agent he'd just named, the current case took priority. He had to find out what, if anything, James knew about his copycat.

"James..." William Reid scowled at the thirty-six year old, his tone almost like a warning. "If you don't cooperate..."

James glared at the lawyer, and though a biting silence arose between them, it felt like the two were communicating through stares alone. It was enough that Hotch glared at William, wondering what the lawyer had discussed with James before this meeting.

"What? I'm not allowed to be curious? I don't even know who this 'Gideon' is!" James seethed, his dark eyes livid. He shifted his glare towards Hotch. "Nor do I see what the hell it's got to do with this case of yours. With this copycat you say I have."

"...that...you're right, James, this likely doesn't have to do with the copycat." Hotch replied, caught off guard by the younger man's verb tense choice after mentioning Gideon - 'is'. It drove home just how much James didn't know. He waited while James calmed down a tad and gave a curt nod of his head. "...you said the article was about a Felicia Sutters? That she was attacked and killed?"

James nodded. "It said her eyes had been gouged out, so I remember it clearly."

"She was enucleated?" Hotch asked, studying James. It felt uncanny talking about a crime that seemed almost a precursor to James'. "Like your victims?"

"If that's what you call gouging eyes, then yeah." He paused, touching his lip as he mulled over a thought. "...she was raped, as well. Though that article used the euphemism 'forced upon' rather than the word rape. Heh, I was so naive back then, I recall that Bryce had to tell me what that euphemism meant."

Hotch's eyes widened a sliver as he gauged the truthfulness of James' answer as well as his added comment. "...How old were you and your friend when you saw the article?"

"Thirteen. Bryce almost fourteen." James mumbled, his dark umber eyes staring at his hands as he thought. His lips twitched into a frown briefly before his gaze locked on Hotch. "...if you're looking for someone copying me, you might want to focus on Bryce."

"...why is that?" Hotch replied, curious but viewing the advisement with suspicion. "Why do you think Bryce is our copycat?"

"He always loved pissing me off." James replied cryptically. "Besides, he's the only one I know who saw that article about Sutters. If my copycat was just a recent fan, he'd just go after my reported victims, right?"


	15. Chapter 15

**And Carried Me Away  
Chapter 15: **

"Yes. Yes, I'm on my way back now." Hotch told Tara as he approached his vehicle, his cell phone to his ear. He paused, listening to the other agent's questions while mulling over what he'd learned. "Quite a bit, actually. But not much about our current unsub, except a name. Bryce Samuels. He was another boy who lived in Somerfield's institute at the same time as James. It's possible he's our unsub. He and James had some sort of rivalry relationship, and the two were the only boys at the institute to read an article about Felicia Sutters - Olivia Sutter's mother."

Hotch opened his SUV door, listening to Tara while his eyes scanned his surroundings. He quickly noticed William Reid heading to his own car. After concluding their interview with James, William had lingered behind to talk to the thirty-six year old alone.

"Have Garcia look into Bryce, and see if he fits our preliminary profile. Somerfield's trial is ongoing, so it's unlikely we'll be able to question him. And even if we did manage it, he might try to leverage any information he gives towards a deal." Hotch frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. He ended the call and slipped his phone away before starting towards William. After barely two steps he hesitated, about to call out until the other man stopped.

William stood beside his car, oblivious to Hotch eyeing him. He took in a deep breath, massaging his forehead, the stress and anger he'd felt sitting in that room with James breaking through his facade. He'd imagined what it'd be like, meeting Jemma's father.

Knowing what James had done to other women, he'd prepared himself to hear horrible and anger stoking replies to his questions. He'd prepared himself to be angry, so he could resist attacking a man who possibly took advantage of his daughter. He had prepared himself to hear his deepest suspicions confirmed, thinking that that would be the worst. The possibility that Alsie had been raped by James was the worst thing William, as Alsie's father, had been able to imagine.

'Jemma...' William whispered his granddaughter's name, his stomach twisting as he thought about what he learned. James' mother had had ALS, James himself had gotten tested but hadn't viewed the results. Though there was a chance that the genes for ALS hadn't been passed to James and thus couldn't have been passed to Jemma, the possibility that they were eclipsed everything else.

Jemma already had a genetic risk for developing schizophrenia as an adult, something that William had been able to not think about since it'd take years to develop. If it ever did. ALS, from what he knew, was different. And though he didn't know much about it, the possibility of Jemma developing it scared him more.

"Shit."

"...Mr. Reid?" Hotch's voice breaking through surprised William, and he glared at the other man.

"Yes? What do you want?" He snapped, immediately regreting it when the agent eyed him suspiciously. "...sorry, after everything James...I'm just overwhelmed."

"..." Hotch raised an eyebrow at the word 'overwhelmed.' He grabbed the other man's arm when William reached for his car's handle. "It wasn't as terrible as it could've been, Mr. Reid. James was being truthful about not assaulting Alsie..."

William grimaced, locking onto the other man's words and the anger they caused, in effort to forget about Jemma's genetics. He tried shaking off Hotch's grip. "I don't care. He could've treated her like royalty, it doesn't change the fact that he had sex with my daughter when she wasn't aware. Her alter may have been, but Elsie wasn't."

"I...that...that is..." Hotch faltered a second, understanding the other man's point and agreeing with it. "...you're right to be angry. And with what James confessed today, new charges could be brought against him."

William, in midst of nodding in agreement, stilled. His thoughts lingered on Alsie, on how she sounded earlier when she asked him to bring James the photo. Her expression and body language. Despite what James was, and despite what James had wanted to do to her, Alsie cared about him. She trusted James, and cared about him enough to have his child.

"...no. No new charges. No." William shook his head. "Elsie would need to testify. And...even if she didn't, if she learned...I don't want to spoil whatever good memories she does have with James. She's been through so much, I don't want to rob her of any happy memories."

"...that's understandable." Hotch replied, studying the other man. His curiosity from earlier, about what William and James talked about before he arrived, piqued up again. "Mr. Reid, before I showed up, what did you and James talk about? Wh..."

William just shook his head and pulled his arm away. He glanced back towards the prison. "Not here. Besides, don't you have a criminal to hunt down? This copycat?" William scowled at Hotch before quickly entering his car and starting it, not bothering to wait for a reply.

0

"Icc c'eam! Parhk!" Jemma screamed, high-pitched and angry. Her shriek loud enough that it reached the room where Alsie slept, its strength enough to pierce through the fading effects of the tranqulizer.

"Huh..." Alsie felt herself pulled back to consciousness through a heavy haze, her heart beat quick. Her eyes widened hearing the three year old's screaming, the words inaudible. "Jemma!"

She found herself on her feet and in the hall before she even finished processing the scream. She ran toward her daughter's voice, ignoring her lightheadedness as she rushed through the corridor.

"Wan' parhk! Wan' icc c'eam! Wan' mahma!" Jemma cried, standing in the middle of the living room with her hands balled into fists. Her eyes blurred with angry tears. "Wan' granhpah! Icc c'eam!"

"Jem...Jemma, I'm sorry. Going to the park and getting ice cream has to wait." Spencer knelt in front of the toddler, trying to make sure she could see his lips. It was difficult to tell if she could see him through her tears. "Your momma's taking a nap."

"Icc' c'eam! Wan' icc! You prwamice!" Jemma hiccuped, smacking her uncle's hands away when he tried signing. She even tried scratching him. Her nails, though small, were sharp enough that Spencer drew his hand away with a hiss of pain.

"Jemma!" Alsie called out in a scolding tone, her relief that her daughter was okay giving way to surprise at the tantrum. She quickly approached Jemma and grabbed her hands.

"Wahh! Leggo! Leggo!" The three year old screamed, her eyes shut tightly while she tried to free her hands. It wasn't until she registered that the hands holding hers were softer than her uncle's that she opened her eyes. She hiccuped as those soft hands with their gentle fingers wiped her cheeks.

"Shh. Jemma. Jemma." Alsie crooned, waiting while Jemma wiped her eyes and cleared away her tears. Once her daughter's wide chestnut eyes were staring at her, clear of obstruction, she frowned. "Jemma, you do not hit people. You do not scratch or bite people either. Do you understand?"

Jemma's lips trembled but she nodded, her chestnut eyes not once straying from her mother's face.

"Apologize to your uncle."

"I'm sworree." Jemma mumbled after turning to Spencer, and immediately she turned back towards her mom. She stretched her arms out wide, her eyes round and entreating. "Hugg! Pwease! Hugg!"

Alsie, still in midst of scolding the three year old, faltered at the plea. It took only seconds for her to oblige the girl, bringing her into a warm embrace. Jemma quickly hugged her back, snuggling close to the petite woman. It was as though the three year old was afraid Alsie would leave.

Alsie kissed the top of Jemma's head, holding her close.

"Alsie..." Spencer faltered, watching the two silently. His surprise at his sister's entrance had distracted him enough that he remained quiet throughout the mother-daughter exchange. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he was glad Alsie was Alsie.

"What happened? Why was Jemma crying?"

"I...I told her we had to wait to go to the park. Kai started running a fever so Joy took him home, and since you were asleep...I didn't want to worry you by not being here." Spencer replied, wondering how much he should reveal. Should he tell Alsie about Leigh?

"Why didn't you wake me? I..." Alsie blinked, the lightheadedness she felt earlier returning. It wasn't something she normally experienced upon waking, at least not from a natural sleep. She swallowed and bit her inside cheek. "What happened...the medicine...the tranquilizer Dr. Freeman prescribed...did...did you have to..."

"Don't worry. It's fine. I..."

"You did have to use it, didn't you? I know I blacked out. You were talking to me, trying to reassure me, then I blacked out. I don't remember anything until after I woke up."

"I..." Spencer reached for Alsie's hand, he stared at the thin fingers and wondered at their smoothness. His sister's hand was so much smaller than his, just one of their few differences. "It was my fault. I touched your face and..."

"I didn't hurt you, did I? Or Jemma? Please tell me I didn't hurt Jemma." Alsie asked, her tone becoming increasingly worked up. Her eyes searched her brother's face frantically.

"You didn't hurt anyone. It was my fault. I triggered Emmie and wasn't able to calm her. It wasn't..."

 _-"...It wasn't your fault. It was mine." He whispered, repeating the mantra until she looked up at him.-_

Alsie covered her mouth, Spencer's words triggering a memory. Her eyes watered.

"What's wrong? Alsie?" Spencer squeezed his sister's hand, trying to reassure her. His eyes searched her face, terrified by her sudden tears.

"...James...he said the same thing...after one of my black outs." Alsie spoke, her voice trembling. Spencer's eyes widened at the unanticipated answer. "His wrists were bruised and...god..." Alsie shut her eyes, trying to chase away the memory. Her arm holding Jemma brought the child closer against her.

"Alsie...Alsie." Spencer whispered, smiling reassuringly even as shock filled him at the mention of James. Especially considering the worried tinge to Alsie's voice - she seemed more concerned for James and what she did to him than concerned about what James possibly did to her. It made Spencer wonder if James had actually not harmed Alsie despite what he did to other women. "It's all right. It's all right."

"But...if Emmie hurt him...if I..." Alsie faltered, and bit her bottom lip as she swallowed. Her arms hugged Jemma more snugly to keep herself from trembling. "I...I know what James...after he left me...what he did to those women...I should be repulsed...I should hate him...but..." She drew in a breath and kissed Jemma's forehead again, the three year old having laid her head against Alsie's chest.

Spencer just placed his hand on Alsie's as she held Jemma, neither saying a word more. Perhaps it was his experience as a profiler or perhaps their twin connection, but he understood what his sister had started to explain and why.

"...is it wrong that I don't hate James? He never hurt me...I don't think it was simply because of Emmie stopping him. Besides, if I...if he and I never...Jemma wouldn't exist." Alsie averted her gaze, her eyes blurred. "I can't hate him. And I feel guilty that Emmie may have hurt him at some point. I...is that wrong of me?"

She asked, but then quickly shook her head and mumbled never-mind. Before Spencer could answer her question anyway, Alsie lifted Jemma's head up and smiled down at her daughter.

"Jemma, time for ice cream. Do you want some ice cream?"

"Icc' c'eam, nuh nuh. Jus' wan' mammah. Jus' mammah." Jemma mumbled back, her small fists clinging to her mother's shirt. Her large chestnut eyes stared up at Alsie's face, barely blinking. "Luv 'ou mammah! Luv 'ou!"

"...I love you too." Alsie replied after a moment, her voice halting in her throat.

0

Elsewhere:

A pair of cold eyes stared into a glass of bourbon, an angry glint shining in them. The man the eyes belonged to scowled and raised the glass to his lips, ignoring everything around him. It was mere chance that he glanced up at the television display above the bar.

 _-"...looking for a Bryce Samuels, aged 37, for questioning, in connection to a series of murders..." The woman on the screen said, her voice steady. "If anyone has any information..."-_

Clink!

The sound of the glass of bourbon being placed back down on the bar suddenly drew the bartender's eye towards the man.

"Is everything all right?" The bartender asked, though the cold eyed man ignored him and just continued staring at the television.

His eyes hungrily studied the woman speaking, her vibrant auburn hair drawing his attention. He felt his heart race as he locked on her gaze, memorized by her eyes. As the news on the screen shifted, and before the bartender could repeat his question, the man placed a few bills down on the bar.

"Keep the change." The man said before leaving the bar and heading out, not at all paying attention to the other man's stare.


	16. Chapter 16

**And Carried Me Away**

 **Chapter 16:**

"All right. Hopefully that will help find this Bryce Samuels." Cam muttered as she returned to the investigation area of the station, Tara not far behind. The two of them had just finished up a press release after a database search into the suspect, whose name Hotch got from James, yielded no results. "I can't believe Garcia couldn't find anything on him."

"Well, he was one of the children in Somerfield's institute. It's possible Somerfield used aliases for his 'patients' in any records he kept." Tara replied, shutting the door behind them. "Hotch did get a description from James, but it was from over twenty years ago when the two were thirteen."

Cam grumbled, her heterochromatic eyes livid. "I can't believe this. We have all of his files, but can't find out what we need."

Tara grimaced and nodded, her arms crossed. The moment Hotch had given the team a name to look into as a possible unsub, Garcia had did an extensive search into Bryce, including the files they'd taken from Somerfield. It didn't take long for the tech analyst to discover that on top of giving each subject of his an alias, Somerfield had also obscured or falsified their personal information. Ages and dates were all changed.

The only thing he kept were records of the experiments he did, which horrifyingly were done to many of those at his institute. Not just James. And most were experiments repeated on multiple victims. Multiple times.

"If..." Cam started to say, only to be interrupted by Tara's phone ringing. The latter quickly answered it after a glance at the display.

"Yes, Morgan? What..." Tara paused, eyes narrowing in thought as she listened. "Yes. All right. We'll meet you there."

"What is it?" Cam asked after the older woman hung up.

"Jersey police just found a body of an unidentified woman, enucleated and stabbed in the spine. She was killed and dumped recently."

"Is it Melissa Joyce?"

"If it is then the unsub could be escalating. He kept Olivia Sutters for weeks. He barely had Melissa a day." Tara replied, the two of them already heading out to meet up with the rest of the team.

* * *

"Yes. We're fine. Jemma and Alsie are picking out some ice cream." Spencer glanced towards his sister and niece, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He pulled a face, a tentative frown tugging his lips. "I know...we got a late start. There was...but things are fine now. What about the case? Has the unsub been found?"

 _-"Not yet." Rossi cocked an eyebrow at the shift he heard in the younger agent's voice, and the false start Spencer made. "Are you sure everything's all right? Did something happen? Did Alsie...?"-_

Spencer grimaced, instinctively wanting to keep quiet about what had happened. It took a glance at Jemma and the concern in Rossi's voice as he repeated his question for Spencer to re-realize that the other man deserved to know. Jemma was Rossi's granddaughter and Alsie had almost become his daughter-in-law.

 _-"Reid..."-_

"Sorry. Alsie shifted to an alter earlier and...well, it delayed us getting to the park. Jemma had a tantrum because of it." Spencer gave a demure smile as he kept his gaze on his niece. The full, wide-eyed, grin the toddler gave when Alsie handed her a small, soft serve vanilla ice cream cone covered in sprinkles made him smile more.

"Jem, not like..." Alsie chuckled as Jemma started eating the ice cream with her hands, scooping it up with her fingers and putting it in her mouth. Alsie shook her head quietly and picked up her sundae, before leading Jemma back towards the bench Spencer was standing beside.

Spencer shook his head as Alsie started to ask him if he was sure he didn't want one. "I don't do too good with dairy products."

"Ah. All right." Alsie mumbled, turning her attention to her sundae after helping Jemma onto the bench. The toddler continued devouring her ice cream, her fingers and chin becoming an increasingly sticky mess. Alsie smiled at her daughter and then started eating her sundae, scooping it with the spoon it came with.

 _-"It sounds like everyone's having fun." Rossi grinned as he spoke, the genuine laughter he heard from the other end alleviating his concerns.-_

"Yeah." Spencer chortled, watching as Alsie broke from her resolve to let Jemma eat as she pleased and gave the girl her spoon.

"Here. Use this. Not your hands. Please." Alsie sighed and glanced toward the ice cream vender, wondering if she should get another spoon. As well as some napkins.

"Sorry, Rossi." Spencer apologized, his lips twitching as Jemma gave back the spoon to Alsie. "I got distracted."

 _-"No problem. Just take some photos of my adorable granddaughter so I can add them to the album I started." He paused, thinking about something. "We need to get you a phone with a newer camera."-_

Spencer blinked and shook his head. "What's wrong with the phone I have now? I like it. It works just fine, it calls, texts, and takes pictures. I don't need a new one."

 _-"...kid." Rossi sighed. "The picture quality of your phone is just...not the greatest. Besides you can't really record video on it either. Jemma deserves the best quality of photo and video."-_

Spencer made a face, twisting his lips. It wasn't that he disagreed with Rossi's comment about Jemma, but rather the idea of upgrading his phone. Most if not all of the phones with better cameras were smart phones with touch screens. He hated touch screens.

 _-"...it's all right, kid. I was joking." Rossi replied with a chuckle after realizing what Spencer's silence meant. "Alsie has a smart phone so you or her can use that." He paused a moment, listening to Spencer grumble about newer technology and how addictive it can be for people. He waited until the younger man was done grumbling. "All right. I get it. Anyway there's another reason I called, aside from checking up on Jemma."-_

"...What is it?" Spencer asked, glancing at Alsie and Jemma briefly before turning away to focus on the call.

 _-"...Hotch found out something that the team needs to hear. He didn't elaborate, but said it was important." Rossi took in a breath, rubbing his chin as he recalled Hotch's call. The younger man had seemed perturbed by something he'd learned, and Rossi was sure it had to do with James. Hotch had just gotten done with an interview with James after all. He couldn't help wondering what it was Hotch had learned, what James may have told him.-_

"Rossi, I..." Spencer started, but quickly stopped, his eyes widening after returning to his sister and niece. The wheezing coming from the latter terrifying him. He quickly flew to the bench, his eyes widening at hives marring his niece's skin. "Jemma!"

Alsie trembled, panicking. Her frightened and wide eyes searching Spencer's face before locking once more on her daughter. She was unable to speak, and simply panicked, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

Spencer, recognizing the symptoms of severe allergic reaction, quickly hung up on Rossi. The very next moment calling for an ambulance.

* * *

 **New Jersey:**

The sky overhead a deepening crimson as sunset inched nearer, police cars surrounded the area leading to the dumpsite. It was a wooded area, with biking and hiking trails leading along and from the road that curved through the area. The trees were many and a lush of green, part of a lovely, non-urban landscape.

It was not a place used to homicide, nor the disposal of corpses. That was evidenced by the reporters and onlookers trying to see what the commotion was about. To see why so many police were around in an area that was considered safe.

Cold eyes peered at the flashing lights, their owner standing quietly among the gaggle of onlookers. Dressed in worn jeans and a slate-gray hoodie, he studied the officers coming and going while blending in with the crowd.

"What's happened?" One of the onlookers asked another, trying to see some hint of what was beyond the police barricade.

"Don't know. Heard someone say there was a dead body. A woman."

"What? Seriously? Do you think she was killed?" The first asked, turning to her friend. Her eyes widened and lit with morbid interest. "Do you think it could be another of the copycat murders? Like it mentioned on the News?"

"Weren't the other ones found closer to Newark? Why would one be found here?"

The man with the cold eyes crept away, a twitch of his lip the only indication that he'd heard the two friend's conversation.

"'And now we roam, in sovereign wood, and now we hunt the doe...'" Bryce whispered as he sauntered off, his thin lips itching to form a sneer.

It was as he walked off, not yet outside of the crowd, that he emptied his hoodie's pocket. A parcel, unremarkable enough not to be noticed amid the draw towards the police lights, but of enough girth to eventually be seen. And felt.

Bryce smirked slightly, really just a twitch of his lips, as he continued on. His cold eyes, catching sight of a black SUV driving towards the site cordoned off with police tape, gleamed. He watched it disappear behind the gaggle of onlookers before resuming his walk.

0

 _-Flashback-_

 _-"Yes, I understand. You were hoping to find her or the family, but you knew from the beginning that it was a long shot." The man spoke, handing over a quarter-inch stack of papers to him. "There isn't any proof that a switch happened, or that this Crawford family is connected. Mr. Reid...It's been years, any trail, if there's one to be found, has likely grown cold. The agency you hired before has a great reputation, if they didn't find a trail back then, it's unlikely any will be found now."_

 _"I...that's..." William sighed and begrudgingly took the papers, his blurry gaze shifting to the top page. He blinked until his tired eyes were clear, the sliver of hope he had diminishing._

 _"I suggest you deal with the likelihood that your daughter wasn't switched and move on." The man waited, watching as his client nodded though with more weariness than just moments ago._

 _"Yes. Maybe you're right. I should...thank you for your time Mr. Cutler..."_

x

William Reid glowered at his steering wheel, his increasingly livid gaze shifting to the sign on the front of the building across from him. He squeezed his steering wheel as he read the name of the law offices. C. J. Cutler. The lawyer who drew up Mary Schmidt's will.

William scowled and took a deep breath, his eyes flitting to the folder he'd lain open on the passenger seat. The folder he had kept during his search for Alsie, the folder containing all the reports filed by the detective agencies he hired.

His jaw taut and eyes narrowed, he picked up the papers and folder before exiting his car. Though it was getting late, his detour to visit James at Alsie's behest having taken up a chunk of the day, he refused to wait longer.

Midway in shutting his car door, his cell phone rang. His narrowed, angry eyes widened with concern seeing Alsie's number and name on the display.

"Hello? Elsie, what's...?" William paled as he listened to his daughter, her voice terrified and what she was saying terrifying. Though he honestly only heard 'Jemma' and 'hospital.' "Which hospital? Whi...don't worry. It'll be all right. I'm on my way." William reassured Alsie, returning to his car without another thought.


End file.
